


Though Soft You Tread Above Me

by traveller19



Series: Hold Back the River AU [7]
Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5: Legend of the Rangers
Genre: (as in Dulann sees dead people), (good job tirk), (sorry not sorry), (they're terrible), DON'T WORRY I ADDRESS HOW TERRIBLE THE WEAPONS SYSTEMS ON THE LIANDRA ARE, Gen, Ghostly Encounters, Hurt/Comfort, I See Dead People, I want a whole show of just Dulann and David Martell snarking at each other, Teamwork, Telepathy, Trapped, Whump, actually the whole Liandra crew's snark game is on pointe, because i couldn't just let that one go, being gassed, firell gets annoyed (a lot), great big awesome rescue, h/c, kit is adorable, na'feel is amazing, paranormal activity, so I made a plot with Lennier and Dulann whump with a bunch of Dulann/Martell snark on the side, tafeek figures out life (and makes flarn), tirk carries very heavy objects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13814982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveller19/pseuds/traveller19
Summary: The crew of the Liandra are thrilled to host their Entil'zha and her friends on a trip from Minbar to Babylon 5.  For Dulann, this means catching up with his old friend, Lennier.  But the previous crew of the Liandra have been speaking to Dulann again, and this time they're asking for his help.  Lennier is not one to abandon a friend in a time of need, and together the two of them embark on a mission to find out the true circumstances behind the betrayal and deaths of the previous Liandra crew.  But when things go horribly wrong, will Dulann and Lennier join the old crew beyond the veil?





	1. Tis You, Tis You Must Go And I Must Bide

**Author's Note:**

> I have integrated the storyline and characters from the movie “Legend of the Rangers: To Live And Die In Starlight” (which I absolutely adore!) into the “Hold Back the River” series. In order to do this, I had to move the action of the “Legend of the Rangers back approximately four years (this story takes place in 2262, and the events of the movie took place about a year before that). The events are vastly the same, they have just been moved into the past a bit to make them fit with my AUniverse! Please enjoy, and don't forget to review!
> 
> I will likely post an update (there are eight chapters total) every evening. I am flying across the country for job interviews this weekend, so if there is a gap in posting please be understanding and know that it will be rectified. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

They were talking to him again.

He had thought that since he had learned the truth, they would settle, be at peace. But he had been wrong, because he had only learned a _part_ of the truth. There were more secrets to be elucidated. And _they_ needed answers.

It was the least he could do, really.

Dulann knew that if he was going to have this talent, it was a good thing he had been born Minbari. Humans, he knew from talking to David and others of his race, treated their telepaths quite poorly – they were judged and scorned and forced to change their careers and life paths in order to protect others from what they could do. Amongst Minbari, telepathy was celebrated – telepaths offered their talent freely in exchange for the care of the community. Dulann’s talent was not strong – he was only a latent telepath – so he never really had much to offer his people in terms of using it. So he had followed a different path, completing his studies in the temple just outside Tuzenor where he had been raised, and then joining the _Anla’shok_.

But there were things that _did_ make him different from those who did not share his talent. When those around him experienced intense emotions, he knew. He could just be walking by someone, a friend or a complete stranger, and in a single moment he would be struck with emotion of dizzying intensity. It could be joy, grief, anger, hatred, or love. Sometimes it was strong enough to physically take his breath away. He could also tell if he was being scanned by another telepath, and with practice he had learned to keep them out, unless they were too strong for him. He had never been scanned against his will – his experience in blocking came from having practiced with other telepaths in Temple. Minbari telepaths did not scan others without permission.

And then there was the _other_ part of his talent. No matter how many times he sensed the presence of those who had passed beyond the veil, it never failed to thoroughly shake him. He had become skilled at putting on a façade – even one that seemed to occasionally fool his best friend, who happened to be one of the least unobservant humans he had met – but the experience of having interacted with someone on the other side always left him with a dry mouth and heart palpitations.

He could not always hear them. Sometimes he only felt them. It felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and it made him so chilled he had to suppress shivers and the desire to wrap up in a blanket and hide in his quarters until he could stop thinking about it. If he could ever stop thinking about it.

When he did hear them clearly, it was most often in his dreams. When a Minbari was close to death, when the veil fluttered as though to invite them to pass beyond it – that was when they could see and talk to those on the other side. Minbari who were not telepathic but truly nearing death had been known to have conversations with those who had gone before. But sometimes sleep fools the body into thinking it is dying – that was why, Dulann knew, sometimes when you were nearly asleep, you woke suddenly with a jerk. It was the body’s way of trying to save itself from death. And for Minbari telepaths, sleep, with its simulation of death, was sometimes all that was needed to hear the calls of those beyond.

He only saw them when he slept in his quarters on the _Liandra_ , never in his room at the _Anla’shok_ headquarters or anywhere else, so he knew they weren’t just dreams – the spirits were communicating with him. And tonight – tonight was the most vivid and clear vision he had ever experienced, with the exception of when he had been delirious and very, very close to death a few months prior.

He saw _her_ that night. The one whom he saw the most. Hers was the first face he had seen clearly – she had been the first to reach out to him, when he had been lying in Medbay, badly injured and very sick. The others had been upset, worried, disturbed at the presence of yet another traitor aboard their vessel. She had felt these things as well – Dulann had been able to feel them radiating off of her - but she had spoken soothingly to him in his own language, Adronato, trying to calm his feverish and panicky mind. In _their_ language, actually – she, too, was Religious Caste. She had not told him her name, but following the mission and his subsequent recovery, Dulann had searched the database at the _Anla’shok_ headquarters for the manifest of the _Liandra_ ’s last crew. He had scrolled through it until he had found her face – he had known it instantly. Arlenn, communications officer. Killed, along with all the rest. All but one, anyway.

“Dulann.” None of them hardly ever used his name. That was one of his first suggestions that something was different this time. “We helped you and your friends, once. Now, we ask that you do the same for us. We cannot rest, Dulann. You know what it is like to be a part of a crew – how close you become with your crewmates. Now imagine being betrayed by one of them – sold out to your own death, and those of your dear friends.”

“But I have already found the name of the traitor in your crew,” Dulann reminded her, hugging himself to try to stave off the bone-deep chill he was feeling. “Silas McNabb, human, male, twenty-six years old. The ship’s Second Officer.” He shivered, unable to stop himself. “I told you I looked in the archives at the headquarters of the _Anla’shok_ , remember? The message left by your captain that David found said that the one who survived all of you was the traitor, and the archives said that Silas McNabb was the only member of the crew of the _Liandra_ who did not die that day. I know this news has brought you grief, and I am sorry for that. But I do not know what else I can do.”

“Silas has since passed beyond the veil as well, I know. But he is separated from us,” Arlenn explained, patient but also desperate. “He did not die on the _Liandra_ , so we cannot reach him. He was my friend, and the Silas I knew was a good person. I know it had to have been him, Dulann, but what we all have to know is _why_. Why he would do this to us. What sickness of the mind must have befallen him for this to happen? And what could I…” She broke off with a shake of her head and then corrected herself. “What could _we_ have done to prevent this?” She reached out suddenly and grabbed Dulann’s hands, and he gasped as they went numb with cold. “Please, Dulann. We cannot rest until we know why this happened.”

“But, I do not know how I can help.”

“You are the only person alive on the _Liandra_ who can communicate with the dead.”

“Only when they communicate with _me_!” _Oh please, please let go. My hands are going to fall off from frostbite._ “I have never been able to call to one of your kind and be answered. They must initiate the conversation.”

“There are answers.” She let go of his hands, and when he looked down at them he saw that they were shaking so badly he could hardly assess the extent of the damage her phantom touch had left. “You must find them, Dulann. Please, please help us.”

“Arlenn, I…”

She was backing away from him, her body slowly dissolving into mist, which swirled around the room and only served to worsen Dulann’s chill. “Help us.” The words were but a breath by this point, and then Dulann was all alone. Shaking and admittedly quite frightened, he took in his surroundings for the first time. He was on the _Liandra_ , in the room devoted to housing the main computer server. Why was he here? He never went in here. The first officer’s job description did not generally involve computer maintenance.

But before he could dwell on it any further, his breath caught in his throat. He coughed and tried to take another breath, but the inhalation did not send any air into his lungs. He tried again, feeling oxygen-starved by this time, but to no avail. Panic began to clench its icy fingers around his heart and he tried to scream, but the lack of ability to inflate his lungs prevented any sound from coming out. All he could manage was a choked whimper as he crumpled, falling toward the floor…

Falling.

Falling.

_“Be’tri A’!”*_

Dulann shuddered awake with a shaky gasp to the feel of a hand on his chest, pinning him down firmly but not hard, and concerned blue eyes staring into his.

“Dulann, _Su E’san?_ **” The worry in David’s voice matched that in his eyes.

“ _Vi’is_ …yes.” Dulann transitioned to English with a shake of his head as he grasped David’s hand and moved it away from his chest so that he could sit up in bed. He still felt chilled to the bone, shaky, and mildly nauseated, but he tried his best not to think about what he had just experienced. “What are you doing here?”

“This morning was our last breakfast at the Rangers’ headquarters for awhile, and you didn’t come. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“What, do you question my reluctance to eat _taalor tube_? You mistake me for Warrior Caste, and I am highly offended.”

David rolled his eyes. “Dulann…”

“It is unrefined and rather displeasing to the palate – it is no wonder _they_ enjoy it.”

“ _Dulann_.” David sounded exasperated. “I don’t know for certain what’s got you so cranky, especially since you’ve slept in more than an hour, but I’m willing to hazard a guess that it has something to do with the nightmare I just woke you up from. Don’t…” He held up an inhibitory hand when Dulann started to deny the truth. “If you lie to me about it now, your polished Minbari integrity’s going to be hurting later, so I won’t even give you the chance. You woke up in a panic, and you were crying out in your sleep when I got here.” He studied Dulann’s face as Dulann stared down at his blanket. “I thought you’d seemed more tired lately. They’re talking to you again, aren’t they? The old crew of the _Liandra_.”

Dulann met his eyes desperately, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to think of a way to explain it all away. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know about this, not even David, whom he told pretty much everything. But his _Shok-na_ had more to worry about than his ship being populated by restless ghosts with unfinished business. Besides, like Arlenn had said, Dulann was the only one who could do this. There was nothing David could do to help, so he hadn’t said anything to him. But he couldn’t lie to him, either. He sighed shakily and nodded.

“For some time now, yes.” His admission pulled away every mask he had donned, including the one attempting to conceal the lingering chill from his interaction with Arlenn. He was unable to suppress a shiver, and he folded his arms across his chest in a gesture that he fruitlessly hoped made him look tougher and not cold. David, of course, was not fooled for an instant.

“This is really affecting you, isn’t it? What do they want now? I thought that uncovering the secret of their traitor was supposed to make them leave you alone.”

“There is more to it than that, as it turns out,” murmured Dulann.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” grumbled Dulann, but at the sight of his friend’s face falling, he spoke next with a bit less fractiousness. “I have it under control, David, I promise. I can handle this.”

David looked as though he was going to protest, but then he apparently thought better of it. “Okay,” he sighed. “Okay. I trust you. I just wish they’d let you get some sleep. I need my _Shok-nali_ , not to mention my best friend, at the top of his game.” He smiled warmly, and Dulann just couldn’t help but smile back. Seemingly satisfied at least for the moment, David turned and picked up a tray from the bedside table, which Dulann had not even noticed before.

“Since you were lazy and slept all the way through breakfast, I decided be a good friend and bring you something to eat.” He set the tray across Dulann’s legs without warning – Dulann jumped to attention and scrambled to grasp it, and luckily he was able to steady it before the steaming cup of tea overturned and scorched his legs. David grinned – he had obviously done that on purpose.

“Making sure your _Shok-nali_ has battle-ready reflexes?” Dulann peered at the contents of his breakfast. He would never admit it to David, but his friend had done well – the choice of comestibles before him was very appetizing. There were fried _Temshwee_ eggs and Valeria fruit, a bowl of spiced porridge, and a steaming mug of spiced tea – black, the way he liked it. And there were no _taalor tubes_ in sight.

“You pass,” chuckled David. “You’re fit for battle. Or at least you will be, once you’ve changed into your uniform.”

Dulann swallowed a spoonful of porridge. “What, are you intending to go into battle today and did not think to tell the rest of us? I should think that is not only poor strategy, but terribly rude.”

“Nope, no plans. For today, anyway.”

“Ah. Well, in that case, perhaps I will stay in my nightclothes all day. Since I am being ‘lazy’, as you say.”

David raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s any way to receive your _Entil’zha_.”

Dulann tried to conceal his surprise. _How_ could he have forgotten about that? With his nightmare and then David being there when he had awoken, it had managed to slip his mind. But receiving the leader of the _Anla’shok_ aboard their vessel and transporting her and her entourage to Babylon 5 was not something he should have forgotten about, no matter how much was on his mind. Perhaps the dreams were affecting him more than he was willing to admit.

“Unless, of course,” David was saying, “you don’t _want_ to meet her _and_ see your old friend from Temple…”

“Of course I do! Now leave me to ready myself.” Dulann shoved a huge forkful of _Temshwee_ egg in his mouth.

David laughed. “Okay, buddy. I’ll see you on the bridge in an hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“Be’tri A’!” - Loosely translates to “Help me”  
> **“Su’Esan?” – “Are you all right?”


	2. But Come Ye Back, When Summer’s In The Meadow

“I do miss it,” sighed Marcus Cole as he looked up at the _Anla’shok_ headquarters building with a touch of wistfulness. “I mean, don’t get me wrong – I am decidedly partial to Babylon 5. But there’s something about the place you were trained that just makes you love it.”

Lennier smiled softly, a touch of sadness flickering in his eyes. “I know what you mean.”

Delenn lightly squeezed her best friend’s arm. “I am sorry we did not make it to Tuzenor this trip, Lennier. I know you have been wanting to visit the Temple where you grew up.”

“It’s all right,” Lennier reassured her, laying his hand atop hers. “I know we’ll make it there sometime. We had limited time here, and that is not your fault. I know you would have liked to stay on Minbar as much as I do, but duty calls us back. And it _was_ nice to just be back on Homeworld, if only for a short time. I am glad we got to visit Yedor.”

Delenn closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, smiling. “As am I. It is amazing how quickly my beloved city is healing so soon after the war.”

“It is,” Lennier agreed. He was so glad Delenn had gotten to visit – the raw emotion in her eyes when she had seen the rebuilding of Minbar’s capital city, where she had grown up, had made him feel warm inside. But all the same, she was right – he _did_ wish they had had the time to visit his home. But that was all right, truly – it was enough for him to be on Minbar with Delenn. And Marcus was there, too, which was nice. When the _Anla’shok_ leaders had approached Delenn about potentially visiting the organization’s headquarters, Marcus had practically begged to go along. Lennier supposed that he, too, missed his friends and teachers from his life before Babylon 5.

“Delenn,” he asked as Marcus went on ahead toward this ship which was to bear them back to their space station home, “since Yedor is so much on the mend, are the plans still in place to eventually move the _Anla’shok_ headquarters to Tuzenor?”

“Yes,” confirmed Delenn with a smile. “Yedor _is_ healing, but it will be many, many years before it is what it was. I am afraid it may never be completely restored to its former glory.” She sighed shakily, and Lennier pressed her hand. “But sometimes change is good, and our people and our society have undergone an enormous change. We must follow this path where it leads.” She sounded as though she knew that what she was saying was true, but this did not make things any easier.

“The strength of this city is what makes it so great,” Lennier said. “And it is its people that make it so strong. Mostly them working together, of course, but one person in particular stands out.”

Delenn smiled gratefully at him, and Lennier felt happy with the thought that he had made her feel better.

“Come,” she told him, holding out her hand, which he accepted. “The _Liandra_ will not wait for us all day.”

“On the contrary,” he said, following her as she started toward the little ship, “you are their _Entil’zha_ , the One for whom they live and die. I am fairly certain they would wait all week for you if needed.”

Delenn just shook her head with a laugh. Lennier knew that she had had a difficult time adjusting to the fact that she had entire army of elite fighters willing to lay down their lives for her at a moment’s notice. Although she had, over time, come to accept it more, the thought still made her a bit uncomfortable. On the other hand, it made Lennier _very_ happy.

Marcus was waiting for them in front of the ship. The _Liandra_ was clearly quite old – at least two decades – as it had a drop-down gangplank for passengers to board. Modern Minbari ships only had that for cargo loading – passengers used a jetway from inside a building. But though it was small, it was rather pretty. Lennier very much appreciated an aesthetically appealing vehicle.

Two other Rangers stood with Marcus. The first was a young human male whom Lennier did not recognize, but since he supposed that a _Shok-na_ would almost definitely greet their _Entil’zha_ personally before she boarded their ship, he guessed him to be David Martell.

The second person, Lennier did recognize. He caught Dulann’s eye and smiled, and he was pleased when his old friend returned it. Ever since he had learned that the _Liandra_ was to bear them back to Babylon 5, Lennier had been looking forward to seeing his old friend with great excitement. He and Dulann had grown up in the same temple, at the edge of the forest near the city of Tuzenor. They were a year apart, with Lennier being the younger of the two. But though they had not been in the same class, they had bonded over their mutual love of _Denn kalen’Tha_ , the form of martial arts practiced by the Religious Caste. They and Rannier, a close friend of Lennier’s from his own year, had spent a large portion of their free time sparring. After the completion of their schooling years, Rannier had stayed at the temple to teach _Denn kalen’Tha_ , and obviously Dulann was now putting his fighting skills to good use as well, as a member of the _Anla’shok_. And as for Lennier…while his life had taken a different path, thanks to his frequent sparring matches with Marcus he could still deliver a decent _tha’mora_. Or so _he_ thought, anyway.

Martell and Dulann folded their hands in triangles and bowed as they approached, showing reverence in the traditional way of the Religious Caste. Lennier had heard members of other species say that Minbari etiquette was needlessly complicated, but to him, it was quite simple. A bow was a sign of respect. When a Minbari bowed to another Minbari, they used the bow of their own caste, even if the Minbari to whom they were bowing was of a different caste than they. Members of other species could either use their own gesture of respect, or if they wished to show a very deep respect, they could bow using the traditional bow of the Caste of which the Minbari they were addressing was a member. It was not complicated at all, really.

Martell spoke as Lennier, Delenn, and Marcus all returned the bow.

“ _Entil’zha_. It is an honor that you should choose to travel on our…humble vessel.” Martell shot a furtive glance at Dulann, who looked vaguely amused. “I am _Shok-na_ David Martell, and this is my _Shok-nali_.”

Dulann bowed again. “Dulann, of the Eighth Fane of Tha’domo.”

Delenn smiled. “The fighting monks. Fitting, that you should enter the _Anla’shok_. Lennier tells me you are a skilled fighter.”

“He is. I wouldn’t choose just anyone as my first officer, after all.” Martell looked positively thrilled at Dulann’s embarrassment, though Lennier saw that beneath it all, his old friend did look pleased.

“I hope I can live up to your expectations, _Entil’zha_ ,” Dulann said.

“I know you will, as will the rest of your crew.” Delenn smiled warmly.

“Speaking of whom, they are very excited to meet you, if you would do us the honor,” Martell stepped in.

“Of course. I look forward to meeting them as well.”

Martell dipped his head and led the way up the gangplank, and the others followed.

The bridge of the _Liandra_ was quite unique. Rather than the traditional design of the Captain’s chair at the front with control panels behind, like Lennier was accustomed to seeing on the _White Stars_ , there was a large central table around which the crew sat. As they entered, the crew stood and bowed. All triangled their hands, except for one Minbari, who turned his hands toward the sky, cupped them, and interlaced his fingers, as was customary of the Worker Caste.

“I thank all of you for allowing us to travel aboard your ship,” Delenn told them as they straightened up. “I know the _Anla’shok_ existed long before I became _Entil’zha_ , and the way all of you have welcomed me has been both a joy and an honor simultaneously.”

“We live for The One, and we die for The One,” said a red-headed young woman. Next to her, another human, a black man, stared at her with wide eyes, as if astounded she would interrupt her _Entil’zha_.

“I dearly hope the latter never need occur,” said Delenn quietly. “But your loyalty is much valued. I am Ambassador Delenn _ra’ Mir_ , and you may address me by my given name while we are here. This is Lennier _ra’ Chudomo_ , my diplomatic aide, and _Anla’shok_ Marcus Cole. Tell me, what are your names?”

One by one, the crew introduced themselves. They seemed quite an eclectic group, Lennier thought – but then again, the _Anla’shok_ were now a part of the Interstellar Alliance, which put so much emphasis on diversity and racial inclusion. After all, if they had any chance of fighting evil in this universe, they needed to work together.

The outspoken red-haired girl was Sarah Cantrell, the weapons specialist, and her aghast companion was Malcolm Bridges, who was in charge of covert operations. There was also another Religious Caste Minbari, Firell, who was the healer for the crew. Minbari healing techniques, while securely rooted in evidence-based medicine just like what human doctors employed, were fundamentally different from that practiced by the humans in many ways. Lennier wondered how Firell’s method of medical practice had been accepted by the non-Minbari members of the crew.

Kitaro Sasaki (who said he went by “Kit”), a young human male with a very persistent smile, was the crew’s linguist. Lennier felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of having someone to talk to who shared in one of his great passions.

The Worker Caste Minbari was called Tafeek, and Lennier was pleasantly surprised to learn that he was the ship’s political specialist. He could see in Delenn’s face that she felt the same way. With the formation of the new Gray Council, the Worker Caste were finally beginning to get the representation they deserved politically, both within the Minbari government and outwardly to other races. 

And then there were the…less traditional Rangers. Lennier could tell simply from the way Na’Feel the Narn held herself that she was confident, competent, and probably not someone he wanted to cross. And Tirk…well, Tirk was a Drazi. But he _did_ look as though he could lift heavy things, so at least he probably hadn’t lied on his resume.

“It is an honor to meet all of you,” said Delenn when the introductions had finished. “I hope to get to know each of you better in our short time together.”

“And we want to make you feel welcome in any way we can,” Dulann said. “If you will come with me, I will show you to your quarters.”

Respectful bows were exchanged, and the little party followed their guide through the narrow corridors of the old ship.

The rooms, as it turned out, were just as narrow. But Lennier found he didn’t mind – he was excited to have three days to catch up with his old friend. And so after they had gotten settled in, while Delenn and Marcus were socializing with other members of the crew, Lennier and Dulann made their way to the ship’s galley.

“It’s good to see you’ve done what you’d always set out to do,” said Lennier as Dulann pushed a steaming mug of spiced tea toward him. “Thank you.”

Dulann regarded him with a touch of confusion. “I never set out to be _Anla’shok_. Although I must say I am glad that this is where my path has led.”

Lennier smiled. “I meant using your talents.”

Dulann scoffed lightly. “Only some of them.”

Lennier wrinkled his brow. “I’ll bet you’re using more than you’re letting on.”

Dulann took a long drink of his tea before changing the subject completely, a bit to Lennier’s annoyance. “In that case, you have also done quite well in your own life. You’ve taken so many skills you excel in and put them toward serving our people. I know that is what you’ve always really wanted to do.”

Lennier humbly lowered his eyes at the praise. “Working with Delenn has provided me with so many opportunities that I could never have begun to dream of while we were still in Temple. And the best part is, it’s given me the dearest friend I’ve ever had.”

Dulann chuckled. “It is funny how friendships happen, isn’t it? So often in the way we least expect them, with people we never thought we would hold dear.”

“Yes,” agreed Lennier. “If I may hazard a guess, I would say you are specifically referring to a particular human captain?”

“He drives me completely mad on a nearly daily basis, and yet I would give my life for his without a moment’s hesitation,” Dulann said with a shake of his head. “Sometimes I fear his impulsiveness has made me the same way.”

“And I know that spending time with Delenn has made me bolder,” said Lennier. “But taking on the characteristics of those we love is not always a bad thing.”

“Is wisdom another trait you have assimilated from Delenn?” Dulann teased lightly. But his jest was terminated early by a yawn that he tried and failed to stifle.

Lennier regarded him curiously. “Forgive me, my friend, but you look as though you have had a long night. Or perhaps even several long nights.”

Dulann looked very uncomfortable for a moment, but then sighed resignedly.

“I haven’t wanted to tell anyone about this, although David found out on his own just this morning. But that talent of mine you mentioned? It has been quite…active recently, since I have been spending so much time on the _Liandra_.”

Lennier could not conceal the way his eyes widened. “You mean…you’ve been seeing… _this_ ship is…?”

“Yes, and yes again.” Dulann stirred his tea, looking simultaneously tired and uncomfortable. “And we do speak. Apparently we are on a first-name basis now.” What Lennier thought was likely supposed to be a dry chuckle came out sounding for more pathetic than it was likely intended to be.

“Who?” Lennier pushed away the prickling of fear that brushed his heart in favor of trying to understand exactly what his friend was experiencing. “Who is it?”

“Who _are they_?” corrected Dulann. “They are the crew of the _Liandra_. The _old_ crew of the _Liandra_ , that is. Prior to us becoming her crew, this ship was found adrift in space, all of its crew members mysteriously dead.”

“What happened to them?” Lennier could feel his tea going cold as his hand grasped the cup with probably a bit too much strength, but the knowledge of this was only distant as he sat erect, listening to Dulann’s story.

“They were betrayed. By one of their own.” Sadness tugged at Dulann’s expression, a grief that made it almost seem as if Dulann had known these people before their deaths. Of course Dulann cared – he was Religious Caste, after all, and they cared about everyone. But there was more to the story, Lennier could tell.

“Do you talk to them often?” he asked, trying to keep his growing concern out of his voice.

He knew that experiences with those who had passed beyond the veil taxed Dulann greatly. He still remembered the first time Dulann had had such an experience. They had been children – Lennier had been six years old, and Dulann, seven. Lennier had already had an inkling that his friend was different. Lennier had always been very attentive and perceptive, and things got around when a relatively small group of people all lived together. He had heard the old monks, his teachers, whispering when they thought the children were not listening. Little Lennier had not really known at the time what they were talking about, just that they had used words like “gifted” and “sensitive” to describe Dulann. But one day, there had been a terrible accident. One of the old monks, Master Sherlann, went for a walk along the crystal cliffs that lined one edge of the forest near the Temple. A terrible storm had cropped up suddenly, as they tended to do on Minbar, and Master Sherlann had become disoriented and then fallen down the ravine, cracking his head open on the sharp, hard crystals. Of course the entire population of their Temple had been saddened to learn of his death.

A couple of days later, Lennier and Dulann and some of the other children had been playing a game similar to what the humans called “tag” in the forest when Dulann had suddenly stopped running and stood stock-still. Merann, who had been the one doing the tagging just then, laughed and laughed as she poked him over and over. But Dulann had ignored her completely, just staring straight in front of him. Nethenn had recognized that something was wrong when Dulann’s legs had started shaking so much that he had collapsed, and run to get one of the monks. Lennier and Merann had stayed with Dulann, who had looked really pale and terrified and had been sobbing incoherently, until Nethenn had returned with two of their teachers. Lennier, not knowing what was going on but being terribly worried for his friend, had not wanted to leave his side – neither had Merann, now that she knew something was terribly wrong. But Nethenn had pulled them both away so the monks could get close to Dulann. One of them had taken the trembling, crying little Minbari into her lap and asked him what was wrong. With enormous eyes, Dulann had managed to choke out after several attempts that he had seen Master Sherlann, his head split open and covered in blood, and that the Master had begged him for help. But Dulann hadn’t known how to help, and he had been scared, and now he thought that Master Sherlann’s death was his fault because he hadn’t helped him. It hadn’t made any sense to Lennier – Master Sherlann had been dead for two days already, and his death hadn’t had anything to do with Dulann. But nonetheless, Dulann had been inconsolable.

It had taken Dulann days to fully recover from his experience. He had mostly stayed in his room, and when Lennier did see him, he was very quiet and looked tired. Dulann did get better, finally, after the worst of the trauma had worn off – the plasticity of the mind of a child was to be commended. After that, the monks had made Dulann get special training with the older telepaths in the Temple to try to manage his talent. But Lennier didn’t suppose Dulann had ever really forgotten that first, terrifying experience.

“I have been seeing them more often recently,” admitted Dulann quietly. “If it happens when I am awake, I usually I just see glimpses, moments. But our first mission on the _Liandra_ …well, suffice it to say it went badly. Quite badly, in fact. Meaning that I spent the vast majority of it in the Medbay.”

“What happened?” Lennier had had such a terrible slew of medical problems himself over the past couple of years that he felt he had suffered enough for himself and everyone he cared about. For his friend to also have been unwell was terribly unfair.

“We were unexpectedly attacked,” Dulann explained. “When the blast hit, I was thrown from my console, and on impact sustained injuries to several…well, _most_ of my organs. The internal bleeding that resulted set off a chain reaction that caused inflammation throughout my entire body.”

“Systemic Inflammatory Response Syndrome,” said Lennier softly, suppressing a shudder. Dulann regarded him curiously. “I have experienced it myself. I am afraid I have quite a difficult time with my own health over the past couple of years,” Lennier explained. “I have developed something of a predisposition to severe illness. I am sorry to hear that you have experienced trouble as well. But I apologize – I interrupted your story.”

“Do not be sorry,” Dulann looked worried, and he seemed to have forgotten his own tale of woe for the time being. “What do you mean, a ‘predisposition to severe illness?’”

Lennier was not the sort of person to tell others about his own misfortune, and his illness in particular was something he kept under heavy guard because he did not want to be treated any differently because of it. Some of his closest friends did not even know. But somehow it was different with Dulann. Maybe it was the length of time they had known each other, or it was because Lennier knew that they were not likely to interact again for some time after they parted ways on Babylon 5 in three days. And Lennier knew Dulann, and he knew that his secret would be safe with him.

And so he told his story, briefly. The bombing, his unexpected bout of sepsis and the terrible, life-altering diagnosis he had received following it, and then his emergency lung lobectomy and severe illness leading to a very risky but necessary abdominal surgery. He did not, however, include the story of his deathbed vision, during which he, too, had spoken with someone who had passed beyond the veil. Only one person in the whole universe besides himself knew of that, and it had taken him many months to tell even her. And after all, they apparently had another, more pressing discussion with the dead about which to speak.

“You make my one small near-death experience seem like nothing, Lennier,” said Dulann when he was finished. “I am truly grieved to hear of your decline in health.”

Lennier straightened his shoulders. “Well, I am still on this side of the veil, thanks mostly to Delenn and the doctor on our station. And I intend to remain that way for quite some time. But I did not mean to diminish what you have suffered, and I would like to hear the rest of the story, if you will tell me.”

Dulann nodded. “Very well. Much like you described, I had a very high fever with delirium and disorientation. I am afraid I gave poor Firell quite a fright when I somehow managed to summon up the strength to sneak out of Medbay. Her first patient at her new post and then he runs away.” He shook his head a bit sheepishly. “From the first time I stepped on board the _Liandra_ , I knew how her previous crew had died. The knowledge of it was so strong, because they wanted so badly for someone to know what had happened, for their story to be told. But when I was sick, when I tread the line between life and death so precariously, they were there with me the entire time. I was terribly frightened – I’m sure you know what torment a fevered mind can convey upon you. Somehow, their presence was comforting. One in particular – Arlenn, of our Caste – tried to make me feel safe, and she reached through my panic just enough to keep me on the side of the living. And not only did they save _me_ – they saved all of us. They gave us the answers necessary to expose a traitor and save ourselves and the ship by providing us with the password to access a secret file containing vital information. But as for _their_ traitor…” Dulann shook his head. “I know his name. That much was easy to find in the _Anla’shok_ database. In his final log, the previous captain said that the person who survived the crew was the traitor. Only one crew member did not die that day. But the question is _why_? Why did he betray them?”

“And that is why the spirits are restless now?” Lennier clarified.

Dulann nodded. “He was their friend, and they are distressed at his betrayal.”

“I do not blame them,” said Lennier, disgust tightening its fingers around his stomach. “Betraying one’s friends is one of worst possible transgressions one can commit, in my opinion.”

“That is unsurprising. Minbari are bred and trained for loyalty,” Dulann pointed out. “While the traitor was human, his _Anla’shok_ training should have been enough to dissuade him from acting in such a way against his crew and friends. What could possibly have happened to make him do something so terrible? From what I’ve read in the database, he was in good standing with the _Anla’shok_ at the time of the incident, and he had no recorded offenses. His record was clean.”

“He must either been in pain or scared,” Lennier murmured. “At least, that is the only way I can rationalize such a heinous act without making myself feel sick to my stomach.”

“Maybe, but I still cannot help but think we are missing something. And I’m going to find out what,” said Dulann, his tone equally soft, but determined. 

One look at his friend’s expression told Lennier that, dangerous though this had the potential to be, there would be no talking Dulann out of it. So, there was only one thing for it.

“How can I help?”


	3. ‘Tis I’ll Be Here, In Sunshine Or In Shadow

Dulann had just opened his mouth to answer Lennier when Na’Feel entered the room, looking vaguely annoyed. But even vaguely annoyed in a Narn was a bit scary, so the two Minbari immediately sat at rapt attention.

“There you two are. Didn’t anyone tell you that dinner is on the bridge tonight?”

Dulann furrowed his brow. “Why? We have a perfectly good galley right here. Its purpose is for eating.”

“The galley is too small to accommodate both the whole crew and our guests,” said Na’Feel, a bit pedantically. “Captain Martell wanted us to all have dinner together in the spirit of camaraderie or something. And someone needs to fly the ship.”

“And who is the poor soul who has been selected to fly the ship while trying to eat their dinner?” Lennier stifled a laugh at the dread in Dulann’s voice.

Na’Feel rolled her red eyes. “Never fear, my good First Officer. I am perfectly capable of multitasking. You and your friend may continue socializing. But come now, please. I imagine Tafeek will be quite offended if you do not try his…what did he call it? The square green food.”

Lennier laughed. “ _Flarn_. It is traditionally offered to visiting guests. That’s very kind of him – the making is a two-day process and can be quite grueling. I’ve done it more than once myself.”

Na’Feel shook her head. “You Minbari and your rituals.”

Lennier summoned his courage just a bit. “We do have many of them, you are correct. But Narn also have plenty of rituals, some of which are also centered around food. Take G’Quan soup, for example. It is made of various vegetables and is traditionally made as a group and consumed to celebrate the hatchday of G’Quan. The particular vegetables used are not so important, but it is essential that each brood member bring one vegetable.”

For one heart-pounding moment, Na’Feel stared him down. But then her expression softened a touch – not so much that she looked impressed, but enough that led Lennier to safely believe that they had reached an understanding.

“You make a fair point, Minbari. Now come and eat your _flarn_ and make Tafeek’s year.”

Dulann chuckled. “We’re right behind you.”

The Narn nodded once and left the room as the two got up from their table. Dulann regarded Lennier with something akin to mild awe.

“You weren’t exaggerating – you _have_ gotten bolder.”

Lennier just heaved a relieved sigh and made a mental note to thank G’Kar for being so vocal about his people’s traditions.

After the traditions associated with the meal had been observed, the atmosphere became relaxed and the group sat back to enjoy their food. The _flarn_ was delicious, with just the right amount of spice, and Lennier, Delenn, and Marcus all told Tafeek how much they enjoyed it, which made the Worker Caste Minbari bow low while looking extremely pleased. Given that they were eating on the bridge, the dinner was quite informal, which seemed to perturb Dulann and Firell a little bit. Lennier could understand why – if he was in their place, playing host to a great leader, he would also be frustrated and probably a little upset by being unable to observe the formality by which he had been taught to abide. But as a guest, Lennier found he did not mind the relaxed atmosphere. He supposed his tolerance for deviation from etiquette had developed in his time spent among other cultures, particularly humans.

Na’Feel carried her plate of _flarn_ over to take her place at the helm. The rest of them spread themselves out around the center console and the folding chairs that Bridges and Sasaki had brought in.

“I apologize for the seating arrangements, _Entil’zha_ ,” said Martell with a bow. “I’m afraid our ship, while she is fierce, is barely large enough to accommodate our crew, let alone guests. This is no way to receive someone of your importance.”

“It is more than adequate, _Shok-na_ Martell,” Delenn said, returning the bow. “Believe me, I have dined under…stranger conditions.”

Martell smiled. “Thank you for your understanding. But please, call me David.”

“Only if you call me Delenn.”

The captain shook his head incredulously. “You have a deal, Delenn. But forgive me for saying that you are quite unlike the vast majority of Religious Caste Minbari I have met. Titles and paying the proper respect are so important in your culture.”

“One does not necessarily need to use a title to convey proper respect,” said Delenn gently. “But you are correct in saying that I _am_ quite unlike the vast majority of Religious Caste Minbari. And I am not only referring to my appearance.” She exchanged a small smile with Lennier, who recalled the very first time he had met Delenn. The first things she had said to him upon their initial meeting were to look up and call her by her given name, both things which were considered hideously disrespectful in their culture. He had obeyed, of course, but he had been terribly uncomfortable doing so. How much had changed in five years – the boundless depth of their affection for one another could now be conveyed in the smallest of facial expressions or touches, or simply just being close. Their love was so much stronger than any convention.

Leaving Delenn to speak with the captain, Lennier angled his folding chair to face Sasaki, who was slowly chewing his _flarn_ , looking as though he was concentrating very hard on it, his expression very serious and his eyes distant. 

“It would appear that you have the mediation part of the ritual down quite well,” said Lennier, causing the young man to startle.

“Sorry! I just…I haven’t had _flarn_ before, and I…I…”

Lennier smiled reassuringly. “It’s all right. If you just pretend to like it, I think Tafeek will be fooled.”

Sasaki’s cheeks flushed pink, and he lowered his eyes ashamedly. “I want so much to like it. I don’t want to hurt his feelings – or yours, or Delenn’s. I know this is part of your culture.”

“Most other races don’t like _flarn_ ,” Lennier said. “In fact, even some Minbari don’t. And it can be an…acquired taste. Delenn understands that as well. As for Tafeek…I won’t tell him, I promise.”

Sasaki’s seemingly characteristic wide smile was a grateful one.

“Marcus told me you’re a linguist, too. Is that true?”

“He has not led you astray,” said Lennier. “I fluently speak and read sixteen languages, have a functional understanding of at least another twenty, and I focused heavily on linguistics in my training in Temple.”

Sasaki’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s incredible! It makes my nine languages seem really small.”

“It’s not about the number of languages you can speak or read,” Lennier told him. “It’s all about being able to effectively communicate, no matter if you have previously been exposed to the language before or not.”

“You’re right,” said Sasaki with a firm nod. “That’s probably what I love most about linguistics. The puzzle and the problem solving – finding patterns and deciphering from there.”

“It is quite enjoyable and rewarding,” Lennier agreed, incredibly pleased to have found someone who shared one of his passions. “That feeling of excitement when you find the first pattern, and then again when it all suddenly starts to come together.”

“And when you first communicate with another race, using the language you deciphered!” exclaimed Sasaki, before his enthusiasm dampened a bit. “It’s one of the only times I get to be a little bit of a hero.”

“You’re doing great things just by being a part of this crew, and a part of the _Anla’shok_ ,” Lennier reassured him, and Sasaki’s broad smile returned. Lennier shifted the subject a bit. “Do you have a favorite language?”

“My own, probably a bit predictably. Japanese.”

“I hold similar sentiments about my own native language, Adronato,” said Lennier. “ _Shikashi watashi wa ikutsu ka no nihongo o shitte iru_ “.*

Sasaki lit up. “ _Anata ga yaru? Dō yatte_?”**

“Let’s just say there was some motorcycle building involved. It is a bit of a long story.”

“Motorcycle building? Cool! I’ve heard of motorcycles; they were a vehicle from way back in Earth’s history – forever ago! I have time for a long story. That is, if you don’t mind telling it.”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and it brought back Lennier’s own feelings of excitement, as though he were back in Mister Garibaldi’s quarters, studying and working and perfecting for hours on end.

“I don’t mind at all. It all started when I had to deliver a simple message to Babylon 5’s Chief of Security, Mister Garibaldi…”

 

“I must compliment you again on your _flarn_ , Tafeek,” Delenn said. “The blend of spices is in perfect balance, and the firmness is just right.”

“You are too kind, _Entil’zha_.” Tafeek interlaced his fingers so that their tips pointed upward and bowed. “I am sure my _flarn_ pales in contrast to yours, though.”

Delenn laughed. “Quite the contrary, I am afraid. In my years in the Temple, I was educated in many aspects – primarily the religious and political sciences, of course, but also literature, universal cultures, and strategic planning. One thing, however, that fell by the wayside, was cooking.”

Tafeek blinked. “You do not know how to cook?”

“Barely anything,” Delenn admitted. “I can make spiced porridge, of course – that is essentially just combining oats and water – and I am perfectly capable of putting leftovers in the reheater, but as far as actually crafting meals from scratch? I am afraid my skills are terribly lacking. Thankfully, Babylon 5 has no shortage of restaurants and shops that serve a variety of food – both healthy and unhealthy.”

Tafeek’s eyes were wide in astonishment. “But what of all our culture’s rituals surrounding food?”

“I have always had people in my life who have willingly volunteered for the cooking surrounding these traditions – friends back in Temple, several companions when I served aboard the _Valen’Tha_ , and Lennier on Babylon 5. Lennier is a wonderful cook as well.”

“Does he make your meals for you?” asked Tafeek curiously.

“Only sometimes when we are spending time together outside of work. Our lives are so busy and we are pulled in so many different directions that we realized long ago that we need to devote time specifically to nurturing our friendship without any talk of work. It is not always easy to do such a thing when your best friend is also your coworker. But we manage quite well, I think.”

“The two of you are quite close, then?”

“Yes, very. After everything we have been through together, I think it would be surprising if we were not. And we tell each other _almost_ everything. One thing Lennier does not know about me, however – one of very few things – is that I do not know how to cook.”

“Ah. I see.” Tafeek nodded as he began to understand. “But if you truly have such a close friendship, surely you do not withhold this information from him out of embarrassment?”

Delenn smiled. This little member of the Worker Caste was quite bold. She liked him automatically.

“There is a touch of embarrassment, I will admit that. But mostly I worry that if Lennier knew about this gap in my functional knowledge, he would take it upon himself to cook my every meal for me. Which of course he does not have time for – sometimes I worry that he takes too good care of me and not enough of himself.” She glanced fondly over at Lennier, who was in the middle of what appeared to be quite an animated conversation with Kit Sasaki. He looked as though he was having great fun talking about whatever it was, and Delenn’s heart felt warm at the sight of it. Her dearest friend was the kind of person who would give and give of himself until he had nothing left to offer, and even then keep giving more. And after all Lennier had been through in the past couple of years, it was so good to see him well and happy.

“I see,” said Tafeek understandingly. “But then, if not Lennier, is there no one who can at least occasionally cook for you?”

Delenn uttered a soft chuckle. “Do you know, ironically, this secret is also something I have kept from my husband? I am sure he will find out someday, of course. But I have never offered the information, and the subject has never come up. _He_ has made _flarn_ before, to try to impress me. It was terrible. I did not tell him this. But since humans are so much more sensitive to spice than we are, their foods are, as a rule, considerably blander. And I am afraid that this carries over to when they try to replicate Minbari foods.”

Tafeek’s face darkened for a moment, and a transient discomfort fluttered in Delenn’s stomach.

“Your husband – he is President Sheridan?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “You are correct.”

A combination of hurt and anger smoldered in Tafeek’s eyes for a moment, and Delenn’s heart plummeted to the floor. But the pain was gone as quickly as it came.

“I am sorry,” said Tafeek. “I am sure you are quite aware of your husband’s infamy amongst Minbari for his actions during our war with the humans.”

“I am,” Delenn murmured. “But he has done a great many things that benefit our race and many others since that time.”

“I know,” said Tafeek earnestly. “President Sheridan and the Interstellar Alliance have changed the way our universe works, and for the better. I apologize again for my earlier reaction. It is only that…” Tafeek trailed off with a heavy sigh and shook his head, seeming to physically wilt. Tentatively, Delenn reached out and laid her hand on his arm. Something terrible had happened to him, that much she could tell. This was about far more than John.

“You can tell me,” she encouraged softly. “We all have pain, and that pain is so often made less by sharing it with those who would help you, if they could.” And even though she had only known Tafeek for the span of a few hours, Delenn wanted to help him. He was clearly hurting, and she hated to see anyone hurting.

Tafeek opened and closed his mouth, as though he was unsure if he should be sharing this burden and great personal information with someone he had just met, particularly someone he viewed as an authoritative figure. But something seemed to convince him that it was all right, and he nodded and took a deep, shaky breath.

“When I first came aboard the _Liandra_ , I told the others my truth – that I came to the stars by a long road. But had everything gone right in my life, that road would not have been long at all. I am Tafeek _ra Fi’irilmer_ – of the Starship Crafters. Rather predictably, I come from a long line of starship engineers. I spent my childhood watching my father spend hours at a time drawing plans for starships, and my mother directing the building of those ships. They worked together so well – to watch them collaborate was to see synchrony at its finest. They inspired within me a love of the stars – a desire to explore, to see other worlds and other peoples. I learned all I could about as many cultures as I could. Much like you did, I focused my studies heavily in political sciences and negotiation and inter-species relations, and I attained Master Adept in all of them.”

“That takes a long time and an incredible amount of work,” Delenn said. “Such success is to be commended.”

“Thank you.” Tafeek dipped his head. “It helps that they are all fascinating topics.”

Delenn smiled. “Indeed they are. With new cultures being discovered so often these days, there is no way to learn everything there is to know in our field of study in one lifetime. But I would not have it any other way.”

“Nor would I,” agreed Tafeek, looking at peace for a moment before a shadow passed over his visage once more. “But near the end of my studies, just before I was about to go off into the universe and begin my career, my interest in other cultures suddenly came to a screeching halt. Because that was when the war with the humans began.”

 _Of course_. Delenn felt nauseous. Deep down, she had seen this coming. Though she had made great strides in conquering her guilt over her role in the start of her people’s war with the humans, she knew she would never truly move beyond it. Not when so many people on both sides continued to suffer from their losses that resulted, at least in part, from her direct actions.

“You lost someone,” she murmured. Tafeek swallowed hard and nodded.

“At the very beginning of the war, just after the death of Dukhat, both sides were shooting every ship they could find, be it military or civilian targets, because everyone was panicking. My mother had taken out the newest ship, another of my father’s designs, to test it. The humans didn’t know it wasn’t threatening – they didn’t really know anything about us yet, because neither side would stop fighting long enough to learn anything.”

“And she died,” whispered Delenn. “Oh Tafeek, I am so sorry.” _More sorry than you will ever know._

Unshed tears sparkled in his eyes. “After we lost her, my father was never the same again. She was so much a part of him that he could never be whole with her gone.”

Delenn suppressed a shudder as memories of John’s near loss at Z’ha’dum and the far too many times she had nearly lost Lennier came back to her. She had been faced with that very existence many times recently, but thankfully had managed to avoid it. Her heart broke for both Tafeek and his father.

“My interest in other cultures turned to hatred after that,” Tafeek continued sadly. “I despised anything foreign, but especially anything human. They were all monsters to me – monsters who had taken away my mother. My hatred persisted even beyond the end of the war, even after Minbar made peace with the humans. And my love of the stars was gone, too. Nothing brought my mother joy so much as being among the stars. But the very thought of it now invoked memories of her that were too painful for me to bear, so I stayed with my feet on Minbari soil. My hatred of other cultures was so great that I wanted to fight them, even though we were at peace. I strongly considered a caste switch to become a Warrior, so much so that I trained for several months with the Moon Shields. But then the _Anla’shok_ began to become more well-known, and my Warrior brothers and sisters went off to join them. I was very much against it – humans were at this time also being accepted into the _Anla’shok_. The ruling council even told me that they needed more people with my particular skills and talents, but still I refused.

“But then the Shadow War began, and even I in my stubborn blindness could see the carnage from it. People everywhere were dying, including Minbari. Something had to be done. Something big. And I needed to be a part of it. It was your speeches, Delenn, that finally convinced me that the races needed to work together to defeat the greater evil. The way you have empowered my caste…it is amazing, and we have so much to thank you for. And so I put aside my prejudice and my pain, and put my skills to good use. I joined the _Anla’shok_. And when I did, I came to the sudden and humbling realization that this was what my mother would have wanted for me after all. She never would have wanted me to hate – she would have wanted me to make a difference in the universe, for the better.

“And so I became a Political Specialist with the _Anla’shok_. I completed my training with them and when I was assigned to work with a human captain – _Shok-na_ Martell – I was at peace with the decision for two reasons. The first of which was that my work with the _Anla’shok_ has been very healing for me because I know I am finally doing what my mother would have wanted. The second reason was that David Martell has a known history of sacrificing his good standing for the benefit and safety of his crew, and I respect that about him.” Tafeek paused and sighed, looking wearied by the telling. “Anyhow, that is my story, for better or for worse. I am not proud of the person I used to be. I can only hope that my work here with the _Anla’shok_ can make up for my prior prejudices and hatred.”

“Yours is an incredible story, Tafeek. I thank you for entrusting me with it,” Delenn said. “You have suffered much, and you have overcome much and are a better person for it. I think you are someone to be admired, and I am proud and blessed to have you as a member of the _Anla’shok_.”

Despite the sadness and exhaustion that lingered on his face, Tafeek managed a smile that reached all the way up to his eyes.

“Thank you, _Entil’zha_ – Delenn. That means more to me than you could possibly know.”

He looked happy. Despite everything he had just told her, he was happy. Despite her role in Tafeek’s sufferings, Delenn felt relieved in the knowledge that she had at least done _something_ right by him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese translations (disclaimer, these are from Google Translate, I don't speak Japanese, sorry if they're totally wrong):  
> * _“Shikashi watashi wa ikutsu ka no nihongo o shitte iru”_ – “but I know some Japanese”  
> ** _“Anata ga yaru? Dō yatte?”_ – “You do? How?”


	4. And Kneel And Say An Ave There For Me

“Thanks for volunteering to pilot the ship over dinner, Na’Feel,” Martell said as he sat down with a plate of _flarn_. Marcus was already there, actually somewhat enjoying his dinner. _flarn_ was not a food humans typically enjoyed, but Tafeek had done quite a good job with it.

“It is no great feat,” Na’Feel replied, checking a screen as she speared a piece of soft green food into her mouth. “This food is…spicier than I anticipated.”

“That is because it is Minbari cuisine,” offered Marcus. “Their food is, in general, among the spiciest of all cultures.”

Martell made sure Dulann had sat down next to him and was listening before saying to his first officer, “And here you are always saying that Minbari have better taste than humans.”

“Not that kind of taste,” clarified Dulann. “And perhaps we should tone down our usual snark in front of our guests? We don’t want them getting the wrong impression.”

“Which would be?”

“That you are a tyrant with no respect for his crew. Particularly his poor first officer, who tries so very hard to make him happy but only gets made fun of.”

“Toning it down, First Officer Snarky of the Eighth Fane of Snarkity Snark,” said Martell, rolling his eyes. Marcus choked on his _flarn_. Dulann just smiled.

“Na’Feel, I haven’t seen much of you today,” Martell changed the subject. “Been up to any fun projects lately?”

“You ask that as though I do this for recreation,” returned Na’Feel dryly. “But since you ask, I have actually been working on both understanding and upgrading the _Liandra_ ’s computer system.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Bridges as he, Cantrell, Firell, and Tirk all brought their plates of _flarn_ over sit with them.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just that…this ship is really old. Are you sure it’s a good idea to go messing around with that stuff?”

“The ship’s age is exactly why I need to do these things. It will extend the life of the computer system and make it easier for us to use, which in a battle situation could mean the difference between life and death. But it’s not only the central system itself that needs to be updated – pretty much all of the auxiliary systems need to be re-calibrated and re-interfaced with the mainframe. It’s going to be a big project, but it’s necessary. I started with Firell’s medical equipment today.”

Firell nearly dropped her fork. “I am sorry – why was I not informed of this?”

“You were busy catching up on records. I decided not to bother you,” said Na’Feel simply with a shrug of her shoulders.

Firell pursed her lips, while Na’Feel looked on with a mild and unperturbed expression. Finally, the Minbari healer said coldly,

“You must ask permission before touching my equipment. Some of it is very delicate. And if it was offline and an emergency came in, that could even result in the death of a crew member. This is unacceptable.”

“The equipment was offline barely twenty minutes, and only one piece at a time. No one died, as you can clearly see.” Na’Feel made a wide, sweeping gesture around the room. “And all the upgrades to the Medbay are finished now, so no need to worry,” Na’Feel said rather pedantically. “And the equipment is all back where it was. I made sure of that.”

Firell blinked once. “You moved my equipment?”

“Some of it. Tirk lifted the really heavy stuff.”

Tirk nodded. “I carry very heavy objects.”

Firell looked from Na’Feel to Tirk and then back again. When she spoke again, her voice was clipped, and her every muscle seemed rigid. “Na’Feel, someone could have died. I do not believe you understand the gravity of what you have done.”

“Easy, Firell,” soothed Martell. “It’s okay, it’s done now.” He turned to Na’Feel. “You shouldn’t have moved or modified the medical systems at all without speaking to Firell first. Not only was that disrespectful, but she’s right – it could have left us without the resources we need in case of a medical emergency. I appreciate the upgrades, and I know they’re necessary, but in the future, please speak to the crew members pertinent to a specific system before changing or manipulating anything. Understood?”

Na’Feel’s expression did not change at all as she dipped her head. “Yes, Captain. My apologies, Firell.”

The wind seemed to drop out of Firell’s sails. “Yes, well…as the Captain said, please just ask, in the future. I apologize for my coldness. I just want to ensure that our friends can receive the care they need, should they need it.”

Na’Feel nodded in acknowledgement. “All right, whom do I ask about upgrading the main server itself?”

Marcus saw Dulann, who had until now appeared quite tired, suddenly sit at attention, but the first officer did not say anything.

“I suppose me,” Martell said. “And it’s fine, as long as the main system is still functional.”

“It will be,” confirmed Na’Feel. “The only thing that should be affected is access to the ship’s archives.”

“Archives?” Dulann spoke up.

“Yes,” Na’Feel explained. “Some files are accessible from all parts of the ship, but many of the archives can only be viewed in the main server room. But none of them should be important for day to day ship operations, so if they’re shut down for a few hours while I upgrade the server tomorrow, it shouldn’t cause a problem. Unless you were planning on using the archives tomorrow.”

“No,” murmured Dulann. He looked and sounded distracted to Marcus. “Not tomorrow.” He crammed his last remaining bite of _flarn_ into his mouth and got to his feet. “Excuse me, I have something I must attend to.”

Martell raised an eyebrow and watched him go, but he made no move to follow him. Instead, he turned his attention to his guest.

“So, Marcus, I heard that you got to see our weapons systems in action today?”

Marcus nodded. “Sarah gave me a little demonstration, to the woe of some poor asteroid. Thank you for that.”

“You still haven’t told me what you think,” Cantrell said.

Oh, dear. Marcus had been expecting this question. And dreading it. He desperately did not wish to offend his hosts, who had been so good to open their ship to himself and his friends. But he would not lie, either.

“I have…seen weapons systems on ships that I am…more of a fan of.” There, not an open insult.

But Cantrell was not fooled.

“What, do you mean the _White Stars_? Because you can’t compare those ships to this one! This ship is twenty years old, and barely equipped for combat! I think the systems are amazingly technologically advanced for their time!”

“And that is true,” said Marcus definitively. He noted that Martell was observing their exchange with an amused smile on his face. “But, as you acknowledged, there are better systems out there now…”

“Better systems? How so? They don’t move _with_ you!”

“But the weapons systems on this ship make the user look ridiculous!” There. He’d said it.

Oh, god. He’d said it.

Cantrell whirled on him, her cheeks flushed as red as her hair, a glower that could kill blazing on her face.

“How _dare_ you…”

“Okay, okay,” Martell laughed as he proceeded to break up yet another incident. “Let’s not tear apart our crew members or friends, okay? Marcus is entitled to his opinion. Especially when it’s right.”

Cantrell turned the glare on her captain and friend and uttered a little moan of frustration.

Bridges chuckled. “It’s okay, Sarah. You’re a great weapons specialist, and you do really well with what you’re given.”

“You all just watch this system make a comeback,” Cantrell said defiantly, folding her arms across her chest. Marcus hoped she was wrong. Martell just grinned.

After dinner, Marcus helped Martell clean up the bridge and move the chairs back into their proper places. Delenn smiled at him as she left to retire to her guest quarters, but Marcus could not help but notice that Lennier was already gone. He had not seen him leave, and he had no idea when he’d gotten up or where he’d gone. He’d been talking with Sasaki over dinner, but the young communications specialist had now taken his station on the bridge. Oh, well. If Lennier wanted to mysteriously vanish, he could do so. Delenn always kept at least half an eye on her aide and best friend at all times, and since she did not seem concerned, Marcus would not be concerned either.

“I think I neglected to say before that I’m glad you’re here,” Martell said, and Marcus snapped his attention away from his missing friend and onto his host. “It’s good to meet you. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of a legend among the Rangers.”

Marcus let out a single barking, stunned laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m what now?”

“I’m serious,” insisted Martell. “You’re pretty high-profile, working so closely with Delenn and Sheridan and everyone on Babylon 5. You’re also an integral part of the White Star fleet. And…” He paused, as though considering whether he should say his next words or not. “…And you’re William Cole’s brother.”

Marcus stiffened, the mention of is departed brother’s name sending chills down his spine and an ache through his whole body.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Martell was saying, “but William was also quite popular with the other Rangers.”

“Of course he was,” murmured Marcus. “Everyone who knew William liked him. There was nothing not to like.”

“It’s true,” affirmed Martell. “I knew him, actually.”

“Really?” Marcus instinctively tried to cling to any connection to his brother, just as he did with everyone else he had lost. Even though he no longer felt nearly so much guilt over the deaths of his loved ones, he still missed them dearly. His little brother especially.

“Yeah. Not as well as I would have liked, but he was a couple of years ahead of me in training and we did some practice missions together. I liked him a lot. He was a really good man, Marcus, and I’m honored to have known him.”

“Thank you,” said Marcus softly. “That means a lot.” He summoned up a mental picture of his brother smiling, savored it for a moment, and then tucked it away at the back of his mind. Then he took a steadying breath, smiled, picked up a chair, and said, more loudly this time,

“Shall we convert your dining room back into a bridge?”

Martell laughed. “Sounds good to me.”

 

 

Dulann stood in the main computer server room, trying to shake the still very fresh memory of his dream the previous night, and the deep chill and sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that went along with it. He had a job to do.

“Computer, access archives.” He hugged his arms close to his body, trying to make himself feel warmer. He knew it was all in his head, but that didn’t stop him from feeling cold at the mere memory of his most recent encounter with the dead, which had taken place in this very room. Or, at least it had inside his mind.

The robotic voice of the computer filled the room. _“Archives accessed. Please state specific search parameters.”_

“Oh, yes, of course.” Obviously he could not expect the computer to read his mind. _A telepathic computer. What an unsettling thought. Focus, Dulann. You are not normally nearly so easily distracted from your work._ “Are there any files pertaining to _Anla’shok_ Silas McNabb in the archives that are not also contained within the _Anla’shok_ database?”

_“Negative.”_

“Oh,” murmured Dulann, his heart sinking to his shoes. And here he had thought he had finally found the answer – a way to give the former crew of the _Liandra_ peace and to convince them to let him be. He turned around to begin the trudge back to his quarters when he saw a figure silhouetted against the lights from the hallway. Their face was unclear, and the startled Dulann nearly leapt out of his skin.

“It’s all right! My apologies – I did not mean to frighten you.” The figure quickly moved into the room and blended in contrast with the relative darkness.

“Lennier! I am sorry, I just did not expect you to come here.”

Lennier regarded him curiously. “And why not? I offered you my help in this matter.”

“You don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Lennier looked a little offended and more than a little pedantic. “Dulann, my friend, please do not insult my intelligence. I know that the matter of your…discussions with the former crew of the _Liandra_ weigh very heavily upon your mind right now. I thought that there would be little else that would suddenly cause you to become so unsettled that you would leave in the middle of a dinner meant to honor your _Entil’zha_.”

Dulann winced. “I am sorry about that. Was she offended?”

“Not in the least. But she would probably say that that is beside the point,” Lennier went on. “I saw you leave, so I followed you, expecting whatever you were doing to have something to do finding more information about the traitor. Silas McNabb – that is his name?”

Dulann sighed wearily. “Yes. Na’Feel told me that there are files in the ship’s archives that can only be accessed in this room. And this room was where I was in my dream last night.” _Where I was when I started suffocating, just like the last crew._ “But Lennier, as much as I appreciate the offer of help, I do not wish for you to become involved in this matter. Dealing with those who have gone beyond the veil can sometimes be risky, not to mention very unsettling.”

Lennier chuckled softly. “’Risky’ and ‘unsettling’ things seem to happen to me on an almost daily basis these days. Please, Dulann. You are my friend, and I do not like to see my friends struggling or in pain. Let me at least try to help you.”

The earnestness in his eyes was impossible to resist.

“All right,” murmured Dulann, managing a small smile. “I would appreciate some help, and some company. But I am afraid that we may have reached a dead end.”

“I heard,” said Lennier. He leaned on the console, looking deep in thought. After several seconds, he spoke again.

“You said that while you were ill and the ship was under attack, the old crew helped you find a way to thwart your attackers by disclosing the password to a secret file. Am I correct?”

Dulann nodded. “Yes. That was our first mission on the ship. At the time the old crew died, all of the files on the ship were erased. But _that_ file, the one Arlenn and the others told me about, did not get erased because it was hidden in a place where no one could find it.”

“Excellent,” said Lennier matter-of-factly. “If there is one secret file, what is to say there are not more?”

Dulann blinked. “That is…a very good point, Lennier. But however would we go about finding such a file?”

“The only way is to look, I suppose,” replied Lennier. “It is a good thing that I have always enjoyed a good research session.”

Despite how unsettled he felt, Dulann was able to let out just the smallest of laughs.

“You always were the bookish type, Lennier.”

Lennier grinned. “I am not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Well, if this expedition gets us the answers we need, then feel free to take it however you wish.”

Still smiling, Lennier turned to the mainframe. “Computer, could you please show all files in your database pertaining to the death of the _Liandra_ ’s previous crew?”

_“All files have been erased.”_

“Of course they have.” Lennier sighed and shut his eyes for a moment, looking deep in thought. “All right. Since the ship’s files have been erased, we’ll have to use the _Anla’shok_ database to try to get some hints about what we need to look for. Computer, display any information you can about the _Liandra_ ’s mission under her previous crew.”

_“One non-classified file located. Displaying.”_

“Non-classified?” murmured Lennier as the information popped up onto the large display screen.

“What were they _doing_?” Dulann asked the question he was sure Lennier was thinking as well.

Lennier shook his head. “I’m not sure if we’ll find out with just this file, but we’ll try.”

“It appears to be a list of every ship in the _Anla’shok_ fleet and their assignment for the entire year we inquired about,” said Dulann as he scrolled through the document. “Computer, can you search for and highlight all references to the _Liandra_?”

The display jumped to a blinking yellow block of text.

_Year: 2260. Ship:_ _Liandra_. _Crew Complement: 9. Mission: Reconnaissance and enemy intelligence gathering._

“Reconnaissance and enemy intelligence gathering?” echoed Dulann aloud.

“2260 was the Shadow War.” Lennier’s voice was soft and grave.

“They were gathering information about the Shadows?”

“Very likely.” Lennier folded his arms across his chest, looking uncomfortable. “As unappealing as it is, I think we have to consider the possibility that Silas McNabb was a Shadow sympathizer.”

Dulann leveled an icy glare at him. “McNabb was _Anla’shok_.”

Sadness shown in Lennier’s eyes, and he spoke gently. “I am sorry, Dulann. But we know McNabb betrayed his crew and sold them out to the enemy. Based on this information,” he gestured to the display, “I would say that enemy mentioned was very likely the Shadows. I know you don’t want to believe one of your order was capable of this – neither do I. The _Anla’shok_ are sworn to protect Delenn, after all, and the thought that one of them could have been working for the Shadows chills my heart.” He shuddered. “But this information leads us ever closer to finding out exactly what happened.”

Dulann inhaled deeply. “You are right, of course. My apologies.”

Lennier dipped his head in acknowledgement and respect, letting Dulann know that all was forgiven, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

“The computer said that this file was the only non-classified file available. But who is allowed to view the classified files?”

“Only those highest among the ranks of the _Anla’shok_ ,” said Dulann. He stopped as he realized what he was saying, and that Lennier had a very large smile on his face. “Oh Lennier, I really do not want to bring anyone else into this. And I especially do not wish to bother our _Entil’zha_ with such a matter…”

“Delenn cares about everyone’s well-being, and I would definitely say yours is suffering by not yet having solved this mystery,” Lennier said. “Besides, you are my friend, and if I ask, she _will_ help. I know her.”

Dulann sighed. As much as he did not want to drag Delenn into this situation, he was running out of alternatives.

“All right. But what exactly will she need to do?”

“I imagine just provide a password, but let’s find out,” said Lennier. “Computer, please access classified files pertaining to Silas McNabb or the _Liandra_ ’s mission during the Shadow War or the deaths of the _Liandra_ ’s previous crew members.”

_“Accessing. You have ten seconds to provide correct password.”_

“Or what?” There was an undeniable touch of nervousness to Lennier’s voice.

Both Minbari whirled around as a definitive _bang_ sounded from behind them, Lennier raising his hands for _Denn kalen’Tha_ and Dulann instinctively going for his _Denn’bok_. But there was no enemy. Fear leapt in Dulann’s chest as he realized that the noise they had heard was the heavy door shutting behind them. He stowed his fighting pike and ran to the door and tried to pull it open by lifting from the bottom in accordance with its design, but it was both heavy and securely locked.

_“Three…two…one.”_

Dulann’s eyes met Lennier’s, and he saw that his friend looked just as terrified as he felt. A hissing noise sounded from above their heads, and when Dulann looked up, even in the dim lighting he could see a cloud of mist silhouetted, floating down toward them.

“Dulann?” Lennier’s voice trembled. “What’s happening?”

Dulann’s throat felt parched and he nearly choked as he tried to swallow. He was not sure if the sudden tightness in his chest and difficulty drawing full breaths he was experiencing was due to panic or the cloud descending upon him.

“We’re being gassed.”


	5. And If You Come When All The Flowers Are Dying

This was it. This was how the last crew of the _Liandra_ had met their deaths. He realized now that he had misinterpreted his previous vision, which had led him to believe the life support systems had failed due to ship-wide damage. No, now, somehow, Dulann knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that they had died suffocating from this gas that he and Lennier were now breathing. His dream from the previous night came rushing back to him – he was living it now, as a Centauri prophesies their own death. This wasn’t fair, he had only been trying to help…

“Lennier.” Dulann forced himself to swallow down panic. “Lennier, we have to find a way out of here.” He was pressing buttons on the computer, frantically trying to make something, _anything_ happen. “Computer, what do I have to do to stop this?”

_“Please provide correct password.”_

“I don’t know the password. It could be anything! _Entil’zha_. _Anla’Shok’na_. _Liandra_. I don’t know!”

_“Current action cannot be terminated without correct password.”_

“But we aren’t trying to use any information against the _Anla’shok_! The war is over! The Shadows are gone! Please let us out…”

_“Cannot complete request.”_

“What do you mean, ‘cannot complete…’?” Dulann broke off when Lennier, who had been quiet until now, was suddenly overcome by a harsh coughing fit. He rested his hand on the computer console to steady himself.

“Don’t get upset, Dulann, you’ll only breathe more of the gas in and it will kill you faster,” Lennier said hoarsely when he was able to speak. He sank to the ground on shaking legs. Dulann stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you giving up? Just like that?”

“No,” murmured Lennier. “But I feel that is wiser to go ahead and lie down on the floor before our legs give out and we fall, possibly injuring ourselves on the way down.” He sighed softly. “And it nullifies my urge to pace back and forth, which would make me breathe more of the gas and use more oxygen. Besides, if the door won’t budge, then there’s nothing we can do from up there that we can’t order the computer to do from down here.”

He made several good points. As much as Dulann hated giving in, Lennier was right. Dulann sank to the ground next to his friend. Now that they were so close, Dulann could see that Lennier was pale and trembling. He suddenly looked like the small child he had been when they had first met.

“It’s all right, we’ll find a way out of this.” Dulann attempted to comfort his friend, who only trembled harder. “Lennier, you’re shaking all over.”

“I’m freezing.” Lennier hugged his arms to his chest and hunched over where he sat. “It feels like the temperature has dropped several degrees.”

Now that he mentioned it, Dulann too felt colder than he had but a minute before. He had thought it a product of his anxiety and the residual contact with the dead, but now he was not so sure. Lennier coughed again, and Dulann found himself having to concentrate harder on breathing. His chest felt tight and it seemed as though the air was becoming thinner, like he had climbed to the top of a very tall mountain. And he was starting to feel terribly dizzy.

“Lennier?” he murmured. With a strange combination of weariness and fear, Lennier turned to look at him. “We are really in trouble, aren’t we?”

Lennier hugged himself tighter as the shivers racked his body. “I think we are, Dulann.”

 

Delenn was reading in her guest quarters when the alarm sounded, a loud horn-like noise followed by an automated message.

_“Attention. There has been an attempted date breach in the main computer server room. Anti-breach measures have been instigated. Attention.”_

_An attempted data breach?_ Who on this ship could possibly be doing that? There must be some mistake. But all the same, an ominous feeling came over her, and she put her book aside, rose, and headed for the main computer server room.

When she reached it, there was already a small crowd of people outside what appeared to be a very heavy and very closed door. Marcus was there, along with Martell, Cantrell, Bridges, Sasaki, Tafeek, Na’Feel, and Tirk. All of them held various expressions of concern, but Marcus and Martell looked the most shaken, and Delenn felt her heart jump into her throat. _Lennier._ Lennier was nowhere to be seen. Delenn knew that she worried about Lennier maybe a bit excessively sometimes, but at that moment she _knew_ that something was very, very wrong. Her Lennier was in trouble.

“What is happening?” she asked as she ran the last few steps toward the group. Marcus turned to her, his skin ashen and his blue eyes bright with fear.

“Someone tried to access classified files inside the server room, and it set off some sort of booby trap – it sealed the room and started pumping ketamol gas into it. Delenn…” He swallowed hard. “Lennier and Dulann are both in there, and we can’t get them to respond.”

Delenn uttered a sobbing gasp as her fear was confirmed.

Marcus was still speaking. “Whether that’s because they’re unable to respond or because the computer will not allow us to relay a message to them, we don’t know.”

“This gas, what does it do?” Delenn felt breathless and sick at the thought of all the ways her poor friend could be suffering right now. Or perhaps he and Dulann had perished instantly. Panicky tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes as this thought crossed her mind. Had Lennier been through everything he had for it just to end in an instant? No, no, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be…

“Delenn, I know you’re worried, but we can’t panic right now. Lennier and Dulann need our help, and we have to stay calm in order to give it.” Marcus sounded a bit like he was trying to convince himself.

While Marcus tried to comfort Delenn, Na’Feel responded to her question practically. “When inhaled, ketamol causes hallucinations, hypothermia, and respiratory distress. If the exposure occurs in high enough doses or is prolonged enough, the victim loses consciousness, either from lack of oxygen or a low body temperature, and this can progress to death.”

Delenn whimpered. “How…how long do they have?”

Na’Feel looked down at the datapad she was holding and shook her head. “Based on the amount that’s being pumped in there and the rate…individual tolerance varies but I’d say they don’t have more than an hour.”

Delenn choked on the sob that bubbled up from inside her and was about to turn back toward the door to…she did not know, kick it? Pound on it? What could she possibly do? But before she could move, Firell came hurrying up to the group, medical scanner in hand. Everyone surrounding the door parted down the middle so that she could run the device over the door. After a second, it beeped.

“I’m reading two life signs,” she murmured. “Both Minbari, both very weak.”

Delenn tried to quell the fear that quaked in the pit of her stomach by telling herself that Lennier was at least alive. As long as he was alive, there was still a chance.

“Dulann, _come on!_ ” David Martell yelled as he made his hand into a fist and pounded on the door with all his might. “I know you can hear me – you have to open the door! You have to get out of there! Dulann!”

“David.” Sarah Cantrell laid her hand on her friend’s arm, only to jump back a little when he forcefully shrugged it off, anger and fear turning his eyes wild. After a second, he seemed to realize that she was trying to help, and his shoulders sagged.

Cantrell tried again. “I’m sure he’s tried everything possible from inside there. We have to stay calm and think clearly so we can get both of them out.”

“But maybe if he knows I’m here, he’ll stay alive,” murmured Martell, and Delenn felt her heart break as she remembered all the times that very thought had crossed her mind about Lennier. _I am here, Lennier. Please stay alive, for me. We have not given up on you, nor will we. But you must stay alive._

“Have we tried just…lifting the door? With a lot of force?” Malcolm Bridges eyed Tirk meaningfully.

“I tried. But I will try again.” The bulky Drazi cracked his knuckles, squatted down in front of the metal door, grasped the trimmings on the bottom, and lifted upward with as much might as he could muster. The muscles in his gray arms flexed, and sweat beaded on his forehead as his whole body trembled with the effort. Finally, he released his grasp and stood up.

“I am sorry. I can lift very heavy objects, but the door is locked. I cannot lift it.”

“Can we break it?” Delenn asked.

Tafeek shook his head. “The metal used in crafting these types of doors on starships is far too strong to break. And I would recommend we not even try it. If interfering with this room has already set off one booby trap, then there is a distinct possibility that trying to break down that door will set off another.”

“Why is the ship booby-trapped in the first place?” asked Marcus, frustration evident in his voice. “Who would put a mechanism like that here?”

“I don’t know,” growled Martell. “But I swear I’m gonna kill them. Computer, who instigated the booby trap that was triggered in the main computer server room?”

_“Anti-breach measures were put in place by_ _Shok-na_ _Samuel Markley._ ”

“The captain of the previous crew,” muttered Martell. “I guess I can’t kill him since he’s already dead.”

“I don’t see how this knowledge helps us, anyway,” said Cantrell with a hopeless shake of her head.

“Wait.” When Na’Feel spoke, everyone turned to look at her. “Actually, it does. I think I know how to get them out.”

Delenn’s eyes widened with hope she knew she should not allow herself to be feeling. “You do?”

“Possibly. It might not work, and we might not have time to do it before the gas becomes too much for Dulann and Lennier. But unless any of the rest of you have any ideas, I’d say it’s worth a try.”

Martell exchanged glances with Delenn and Marcus before setting his square jaw with a solid nod.

“Then let’s not waste any time. What do we need to do?”

 

Dulann was beginning to feel very, very strange, and not at all in a good way. His chill continued to worsen, and he, too, was beginning to develop a cough. But he did not seem nearly so bad off as did Lennier, who lay up next to him for warmth, his whole body shaking uncontrollably, his coughing fits becoming more and more frequent, and his respirations in between them more of gasps.

“C…computer,” Lennier wheezed. “P…password ‘the One’.” He barely made it through those few words before dissolving into a paroxysm, curling in on himself.

_“Cannot comply.”_

Lennier whimpered softly as the coughs racked him.

“Save your breath, Lennier,” whispered Dulann hoarsely. “We’ve tried everything.”

The tears that shone in Lennier’s eyes might have been from coughing or from emotion, though more likely they were a product of both. “Dulann, I can’t give up. Have…have to get back to Delenn.”

“And I want to get back to David,” murmured Dulann. “But I heard the alarm sounding outside the door – they know we’re in here and they’re working on a way to get us out. I know it. We’ll see them again, don’t worry.”

Lennier just shut his eyes and shivered harder. Dulann remembered ironically how chilled he thought he had been when he had awoken from his nightmare that morning – that had been nothing, in his comfortable, blanketed bed. He had not been truly cold then, as he was now. And poor Lennier seemed to be having an even worse time than he was. Dulann pressed closer to his trembling friend and hoped that what little body heat he yet had would help.

Movement flickered in the corner of Dulann’s vision, and he turned his head to look. Nothing – it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He was likely becoming delirious from hypothermia and hypoxia. 

But then he saw movement on the other side of the room, and as he turned to look at it, suddenly Arlenn, paler than he had ever seen her, was standing in front of him. Dulann cried out in shock, and Lennier lifted his head with considerable effort.

“Dulann, what is it?”

But though Dulann distantly heard him, he did not respond.

“Help us,” he begged Arlenn. “We are going to die in here.”

“You help _us_ ,” she said.

“We tried! It is because of that that we face death. Please.”

“Find the answers, so that we may all be at peace. Please, Dulann. It is up to you to discover the truth. We have been caught for so long, wondering. Nothing hurts more than not knowing.”

“What about losing a friend? Because that’s what David and Delenn and Marcus and all the rest are going to have to endure if you do not help us.” Dulann felt like he was choking on the words. He heard Lennier whimper next to him, and he wondered if he was speaking aloud. If he was, knowing that there were spirits in the room with them was likely terrifying Lennier even more than he already was.

Arlenn seemed to deflate at those words, conflict and indecision distorting her features. Dulann was making headway, and he pressed further.

“You know I am correct, Arlenn. I am sorry for what happened to you and the others. And I wish I could help, but I am afraid I cannot ask Lennier to give his life for that cause, nor am I honestly willing to give my own. I wish...” He coughed, struggling to catch his breath as he finished. “I wish things had happened differently. But this is how they played out. And so I ask you - would you put others through what your loved ones went through when you died?”

Arlenn went still, tears brimming in her hollowed eyes, and in that moment Dulann knew that he had won.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “You are right, of course. We…I…all of us have been so blinded by our need to find out why Silas did this to us that we have let it consume us to the point of allowing others to suffer or even die for us to obtain answers. Our whole mission, our whole existence was devoted to finding answers.”

“Answers about the Shadows,” whispered Dulann hoarsely.

Arlenn nodded solemnly. “And we did. But we had to protect the information we had, so they wouldn’t know what we knew. So Captain Markley filed the information as classified and put the anti-breach measures in place. I am sorry you and your friend had suffer the results.”

Dulann’s gasp of excitement ended in a harsh coughing fit. “But…but if your captain was the one who created the trap, then surely he must know how to disarm it!”

Lennier obviously heard his words. He clutched at Dulann’s arm, his eyes wide with desperate hope. But he did not speak – it was probably more effort than he was willing to expend by this point. Even despite the heightened anxiety that automatically came with communicating with the dead, not to mention his panic over their situation, Dulann could still hear the way his friend wheezed every time he took a breath. Dulann might be short of breath and shivering and having one _very_ deep conversation with someone who wasn’t alive anymore, but Lennier _really_ needed to get out of there. And quickly.

Arlenn swallowed. “I…I will speak to him. Only he, his _Shok-nali_ , and Second Officer McNabb had the password, and Kalthenn would never give that information without _Shok-na_ Markley’s permission. She was so admirably loyal. Just like you, Dulann.” A saddened affection passed over her visage. “I will do what I can to help you and your friend. Please try to save your strength and your air until I return.”

Dulann looked over at Lennier, nausea sloshing in his stomach as he saw the way his friend’s eyelids fluttered weakly and the way his chest shuddered as it rose and fell.

“I will. But please hurry – I fear Lennier does not have much time.”

Arlenn nodded, triangled her hands and bowed, and then vanished before Dulann’s eyes. Dulann shakily lowered himself to the ground and pressed close to Lennier, who opened his eyes when he felt the change in position.

“Dulann?” His voice was barely audible. “Was…was that Arlenn you were talking to?”

“Yes. She might have a way to help us.” Dulann tried to sound reassuring. At this point the best thing to do was for the both of them to try to keep as quiet as possible. “We just need to stay calm and save our air so we can give her the time she needs.”

Lennier nodded, shivering as his eyes closed. “I’ll try.”

“Me too,” murmured Dulann. He suddenly felt quite dizzy, and a sharp, throbbing headache in his temple manifested itself seemingly out of nowhere. And he felt even colder than before. He closed his eyes to stop the room spinning around him, but he found that even when he wasn’t looking, he could still _see_ the room. But more than one thing had changed.


	6. And O’er My Grave Will Warmer, Sweeter Be

When Lennier opened his eyes, he still felt just as cold and breathless and weak as he had when he had closed them. So they were still trapped, then. He forced himself to lift his head just a bit in order to look at Dulann, and choked on a worried gasp when he saw his friend.

Dulann’s eyes were open, and he was staring past Lennier. His eyes moved back and forth rapidly, and his lips mouthed silent words and such a fast rate that Lennier could never have hoped to discern what he was saying. It looked as though he was in some kind of trance, and it scared Lennier.

“Dulann, wake up,” Lennier whimpered, shaking his friend’s shoulder. “Dulann, we were supposed to stay awake, remember? Dulann?”

The effort of speech made Lennier cough and gasp, but it elicited no response from Dulann. Poor Dulann – being in such a state was almost certainly enhancing his telepathic abilities and his ability to talk to the dead. He was very likely caught in some sort of vision, and Lennier could not pull him out of it. He could only hope that it was not too frightening for him.

He shivered, pressing closer to the unresponsive Dulann, feeling the vertigo and the panic beginning to overwhelm him. He sniffled, trying to hold back tears, because he knew that crying would only make it harder for him to breathe. But he could not stop thinking about the fact that if he was to die now, and it was looking more and more likely with each passing moment that that would happen, he would never see Delenn again. He would never get to say goodbye or tell her how much she meant to him. Of course, he had told her so many times in the past. But it was never enough. And he wished so much for the comfort of her touch and the love in her gentle voice as she ran her thumb over his knuckles and reassured him that all would be well, as she did so often when he was ill. 

And then he saw her. He did not know where she had come from, but she stood on the other side of the room, reaching out to him. If he squinted, he could see her mouth moving, silently forming his name. _Lennier._

“Delenn!” It cost him precious breath to call out to her, but when he finally stopped coughing she was still there. She seemed to be trying to get to him, as though she desired to give him comfort but something was preventing her.

“Delenn, I’m here. Please, Delenn, I need you. I need you so much.” Lennier gave up his attempts not to cry and sobbed the words. “Oh Delenn…”

She was further away now, looking sad and full of regret. Then she reached out one more time, her palm facing him, with one hand over her heart. It was the same gesture Lennier had used when Delenn had stood in the Starfire Wheel, but moments away from death. He had struggled so much to accept that fact that she was supposed be there, and that it would take her away from him forever. But more than anything, even more than the pain of the knowledge of how much he would miss her and how stupid it was that their awful war with the Warrior Caste had made this sacrifice a requirement, he trusted her. He trusted her plan and her judgment. He maybe even trusted her faith in him, because he wanted to be what she wanted him to be, and he would do whatever it took to make that happen. He so desperately had not wanted her to go, but he knew that she had to. And so he had put his hand over his heart and held his palm out to her and hoped that the gesture conveyed a fraction of the love he felt for her. But he knew that it had, because it had all been said before, and the love in her eyes as she returned the gesture had confirmed it.

Now, Lennier’s hands and arms shook so hard that he could barely lift them, but he was determined to return the gesture. And he did, but for a moment. It cost him nearly every ounce of strength he had left. Delenn saw it, he knew – even from across the room, he could see the love and pain in her eyes. And then she was gone – vanished.

_Goodbye, Delenn. I love you._

The pressure pushing on Lennier’s chest intensified, as did his dizziness. He shut his eyes to try to catch his breath as he wheezed, and the moment he did, he found that he could not open them again. And a moment later, he knew no more.

 

 

Despite the fact that Dulann was still in the main computer server room, it was not the same as when he had shut his eyes but a moment before. Lennier was gone, for one thing. Not dead, just…gone, as suddenly as Arlenn had vanished but moments before. Panic gripped Dulann’s heart and he cried out his friend’s name. The precious breath that it cost him and the coughing fit that ensued made him see stars. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye once more, but his heart sank when he saw it was not Lennier. Nor was it Arlenn.

A human male he had never seen before was standing at the computer console, mere footsteps away from where Dulann lay on the floor. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, and he wore the black cloak and symbolic green pin of the _Anla’shok_. From the profile view Dulann had of him, he seemed frantic, his jaw tight and fear in his eyes as he rapidly pressed buttons on the console. He was clearly busy and quite possibly dealing with some crisis of his own, but Dulann was desperate.

“Help me!” he called, putting as much strength and volume as he could behind his voice. The man did not respond or acknowledge him in anyway. Dulann gasped out another attempt at getting his attention, but the man still did not react at all, leaving Dulann with the conclusion that he could not hear him. Frustration and hopelessness gutted Dulann, and trembling, he curled in on himself further and fought back tears. He was dying and he didn’t know where Lennier was and he was probably never going to see David again and he was _scared_. Dulann was _Anla’shok_ – he was trained to quell his fear and turn it into action. But there was nothing he could do – he had tried everything and he was running out of air and strength and time and he just wanted David there with him and he was so, so frightened.

But his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another man. Also human, he was tall, young, and slender, with dark hair, and he walked with squared shoulders and an air of confidence. But it was not the man who made Dulann stifle a cry of terror, but rather what entered through the door behind him.

He had never seen anything like it before, and yet he knew without a moment’s hesitation exactly what it was. The creature was black, spindly, and had too many legs. It flickered in and out of Dulann’s focus, as though it partially existed in another plane of reality.

_A Shadow._

Dulann’s heart felt as though it would pound straight out through his ribcage. He tried to crawl away, to hide, but his body felt as though it was weighted to the floor. He uttered several gasping, heaving breaths as panic further aggravated his already compromised respiratory system. This couldn’t be right. The Shadows were gone. They had left with the Vorlons to go beyond the rim. Why, then, was one now standing but feet away from Dulann?

“Second Officer McNabb,” the man with the Shadow said.

The other man _did_ look at him. So that was what was happening. Dulann was, once again, seeing people who had gone before. But this was different. Generally he was able to interact with the dead during these experiences – he often could not stop them from interacting with _him_. But it seemed fairly obvious this time that McNabb, at the very least, did not know he was there. Could he be seeing a memory, like a recording of events past?

McNabb reached inside his cloak and withdrew a _Denn’bok_. He shook the weapon twice so he could wield it, and stood ready for combat, determination with only the slightest hint of fear written on his face. Dulann was strangely comforted to know that he was not the only _Anla’shok_ who sometimes struggled with that emotion.

“State your name and your purpose here.”

The man with the Shadow smiled serenely. “My name is Morden, and I am not here to hurt you.”

“Yes you are. You have been following us for light years.”

Dulann wondered if perhaps McNabb could not see the Shadow. He had heard that they could remain invisible until they wished to be seen, and then could reveal themselves to certain individuals without others seeing. Did the fact that these events had occurred in the past allow Dulann to see the Shadow?

Morden’s smile did not waver. “I think you already know why I’m here, Second Officer. So how about we skip over the pleasantries and you just hand over all of the files in this ship’s system pertaining to my associates – the race you know as the Shadows?”

McNabb narrowed his eyes. “Never. I am _Anla’shok_ , We stand on the bridge and no one may pass. You will get nothing from me.”

Morden’s sigh was ever so slightly frustrated. “I expected this, of course. Rangers are all so loyal to their cause. They never stop to open their minds and see the opportunities afforded them by other viewpoints.”

McNabb just stared him down, unmoving, unwavering.

Morden sighed again, more dramatically this time. “Very well. I’m afraid you leave me no choice.”

He stepped backward, an action which left McNabb looking mildly confused. Dulann watched in horror as the Shadow, invisible to McNabb, charged forward on its thin, arachnid legs. It brandished something that looked like a claw, and stabbed it with precision into McNabb’s abdomen. The young _Anla’shok_ ’s eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the floor. The creature then positioned itself over the fallen McNabb and used the same claw to incise the skin and muscle over the back of his neck, all the way down to the spinal column, in a single cut of surgical precision. It crossed Dulann’s mind that it was strange that there was no blood. Morden then placed a small, silver device over one of the intervertebral discs, and the object seemed to get swallowed by the disc, presumably adhering itself to the spinal cord. Finally, the Shadow laid one of its claw over the incised area, and the layers knit back together instantaneously, leaving only a thin, white scar as evidence that anything had ever happened. Had the circumstances been different, Dulann would have been in awe to think that he had just observed what was very likely the fastest surgery and recovery time ever in the history of the universe.

The Shadow retreated back behind Morden, just in time for McNabb to come to. He seemed to feel no pain associated with the major procedure he had just experienced. He stood up immediately, blinking with wide eyes.

“I am sorry. I believe I…may have passed out. My apologies. Of what were we speaking?”

“That is quite all right,” Morden reassured him. “And you were just handing over all of this ship’s files on the race you know as the Shadows.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. One moment.” McNabb took a data crystal from a shelf above the console, downloaded some files onto it, and then handed it to Morden.

“Thank you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind deleting all the information on the server? Just to be on the safe side.”

“As you wish. Computer, erase entire databank.”

_“Officer identification and security code required.”_

“Silas McNabb, Second Officer, security code SM2534.”

_“Identification and security code confirmed. Erasing all databank files.”_

“Thank you very much, Second Officer McNabb,” said Morden, that suave smile never faltering for a second. “Now, the very last thing I need you to do for now is to come with me.”

“Of course. But why?”

“Because…it is about to get very cold and difficult to breathe in here. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

There was a moment, the smallest of flickers across McNabb’s face. Of pain, of the real Silas McNabb wanted to break the neurosuppression and burst out saving his friends and crew. But it was gone as soon as it had come, and he was the picture of an obedient servant once more.

“All right. I am ready.”

Morden’s smile broadened just a bit. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

Disgust churned in Dulann’s stomach as he watched both men and the Shadow walk out of the room. It made him feel very nauseous. A man’s individuality, his relationships, his life, his freedom – all of it was gone in a matter of moments. And with all of those things went the lives of the rest of the crew.

But Dulann now had the answers he had been seeking, even though they were not the ones he needed most at the moment. But if he died, at the very least he could maybe help the former crew of the _Liandra_ find peace.

He began to feel overwhelmingly sleepy, and he shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he was still in the main server room, but to his immense relief he found that Lennier was once more tucked against his side. Hoarsely, Dulann managed to choke out his friend’s name, but his transient relief turned to panic when Lennier did not respond. And it was then that Dulann realized that Lennier had stopped shivering.

“Oh no,” he whispered, frantically rubbing his friend’s arms as hard as his shaking hands would allow him. “Oh Lennier, please wake up.” His voice cracked as he spoke.

But Lennier did not wake. He was still breathing, thank Valen, but the corners of his mouth were tinged with blue, and his arms were limp where Dulann held them.

“Oh, Lennier, please don’t die. You have…to stay a…alive for Delenn, remember?”

But it was no use – his friend was irrevocably unconscious. Dulann, choking on his own tears and lack of air, tried to console himself with the thought that at least Lennier was not suffering anymore. He held that thought as dizziness and cold overwhelmed him once more, and when he opened his eyes Lennier was gone again.

“Dulann.”

With much effort, Dulann rolled over to look up at the newcomer.

“Arlenn. Please tell me you have a way to get us out!” The longer he talked, the harder it became to breathe, and his wheezing worsened. He realized now that Lennier’s absence probably meant that he, Dulann, was unconscious as well, and therefore that he had been fading in and out for some time. So while Dulann had been terrified for Lennier this entire time, he supposed that he, too, was in serious trouble.

“Yes. I have spoken with Captain Markley. He is sorry that you and your friend have gotten caught in the trap that was never meant for you. The password is “Mercy”. Just tell the computer system to cancel the anti-breach measures and speak the password.”

“Thank you,” breathed Dulann, closing his eyes in relief. “Arlenn, I…I know what happened. With Silas.”

Arlenn’s sunken eyes widened. “You do?”

Dulann nodded. “I saw. Arlenn, it wasn’t his fault. A man, Morden, came – he had a Shadow with him.” Arlenn shuddered. “Morden demanded Silas give him all the information the ship had on the Shadows. Silas refused, so the Shadow subdued him and implanted some kind of device into his nervous system. After that, Silas did whatever was asked of him – he gave Morden the files and erased all of the ship’s memory. And then they left. But Arlenn…I don’t think he had a choice. When he was himself, he refused to betray the crew.”

Tears poured down Arlenn’s ashen cheeks. “Oh, Silas. I am sorry I ever doubted you. It wasn’t your fault. I forgive you, and I know the others will, too. I hope you know that, wherever you are.” Her eyes met Dulann’s. “Dulann, thank you. With this information, my crew and I can finally rest.” 

“I am glad to have helped,” whispered Dulann. “It gave all of this meaning. But time grows short. Computer, cancel anti-breach measures, password ‘Mercy’.”

He waited, expecting the doors to open in a flood of fresh air, but nothing happened. He looked pleadingly at Arlenn.

“You are unconscious,” she clarified, looking sad, “and therefore what you are speaking in this vision, you are not speaking so that the computer can receive it.”

“I’ve been in and out of consciousness,” murmured Dulann. “Maybe, maybe if I just concentrate hard enough…”

“I am afraid you might very well be beyond the point of no return as far as consciousness goes,” said Arlenn sadly.

“No!” cried Dulann, dissolving into a coughing fit. It was strange how the physical symptoms of the gas exposure manifested themselves even in his comatose vision state. “There has…has to be something…can’t have come this far…not giving up.”

“There may be another way,” Arlenn said. Dulann listened attentively, or at least he tried to. His hold on the vision was beginning to slip away, he could feel it. He felt terribly sleepy. It was as though he was losing consciousness in his already unconscious state. Arlenn seemed to realize what was happening, and she spoke quickly.

“I have been watching your friends, Dulann. They are right on the other side of the door, working fervently to get you and Lennier out. They are on the right track, but you need to help them.”

“I am unconscious,” whispered Dulann. “What can I do?” He could hardly keep his eyes open by this point – there was no way he could do anything now. But even the gut-wrenching pain of fading hope was tempered by how _tired_ he was.

Arlenn’s voice was soothing, serving to push Dulann even closer to oblivion. “All you must do is think the password over and over again. I have faith that your friends will do the rest.”

“The password,” mumbled Dulann. “Mercy.” As he closed his eyes, he could see the entire former crew of the _Liandra_ standing around, smiling for the first time in so, so long. It made the possibility of his own pending death just the smallest bit easier.

“Yes,” whispered Arlenn, closing her eyes in bliss. “Mercy.”


	7. And You Will Bend And Tell Me That You Love Me

“Since the previous crew of the _Liandra_ set this trap, they know how to disarm it,” Na’Feel spoke quickly, emphasizing that time was of the essence.

“But _they’re dead_ ,” Marcus pointed out emphatically. “What are we supposed to do, ask them how to disarm the trap?” His voice bordered on sarcastic. David felt a flare of annoyance when he heard it – that wasn’t going to get them anywhere. But he had been known to adopt a similar tone in dire situations – the coping mechanisms of _Anla’shok_ Cole were not much different from his own.

“Dulann could,” he sighed. How ironic. The one person they needed to solve this puzzle was one of the two trapped behind that door. For a long time, David had not fully believed that Dulann was able to communicate with the dead. He didn’t know why he had refused to see the truth – there were clearly times when Dulann had been upset or uncomfortable enough that it was probably cruel on David’s part not to really listen to him. He hadn’t exactly been the best friend, even when Dulann was so loyal to him – almost terminally so, in some circumstances. After Dulann had nearly died on their first mission on the _Liandra_ , David had realized that he had been wrong – the information Dulann had been able to glean from his communications with the previous crew had saved all of their lives. David felt terrible for his previous doubt, but even though Dulann had been on his deathbed at the time, had he apologized for it? No. He didn’t know what he was afraid of. Dulann had given him unconditional loyalty, and in return David couldn’t even apologize for laughing off something that repeatedly shook him to his core.

And now he might never get the chance to say he was sorry. During the naming ceremony when he and his crew had taken command of the _Liandra_ , David’s truth had been that he was looking for something. What that was, he hadn’t known then. But now, standing outside the locked door that stood between him and his dying friend, he realized that what he had been looking for all along was a family. Since his parents died, David had roamed from place to place, never being able to call anywhere home. But where you were didn’t matter, he realized now, as long as you were with your family. And this crew was his family. And Dulann was an exceptionally important part of that. And now, despite the skeleton of a plan Na’Feel might have, he could very easily lose him forever. It was that horrible first mission all over again, but this time he couldn’t even talk to Dulann for advice. He wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

Delenn met his eyes from where she stood next to him, and he could tell she was just as worried as he was. David could tell just from watching them interact that Delenn and Lennier had a very close relationship. And his _Entil’zha_ looked deeply shaken, yet determined. They couldn’t give up – not when their friends’ lives depended upon their success.

“Exactly,” Na’Feel said, and David forced his attention back on her. It was time to focus. “Dulann _can_ potentially get us the information we need.”

Sarah looked exasperated. “But how? Even if he’s still conscious in there, we’ve tried every way we can to communicate with them. The comm systems to and from the room have been turned off.”

“Firell’s medical scanner was able to penetrate through the door,” Na’Feel pointed out.

“True,” Firell corroborated, “but I fail to see how that helps us in this situation, other than knowing Dulann’s and Lennier’s current medical status.”

“Can your scanner pick up specific brainwaves from here?” asked Na’Feel.

“An electroencephalogram? Yes, modern medicine allows that to be done through a door.” Firell seemed vaguely skeptical of the direction Na’Feel’s ideas were going, but also curious.

“Will you be able to distinguish Dulann’s brainwaves from Lennier’s, and from the other electrical activity in the room?” Na’Feel asked.

Firell thought for a moment. “Yes. Each patient’s brainwaves have an underlying signature specific to them – an electrical fingerprint, if you will. I have records of Dulann’s brainwaves from when he was injured before. I can compare what I pick up in the room to those files.

“And outside of the fingerprint, certain brainwaves correspond to certain thoughts, correct?” the Narn asked.

“Correct. But I have no way of determining what those thoughts are.”

“That’s good enough. Thank you, Firell.” Na’Feel nodded at the Minbari healer, and Firell nodded back. Despite the gravity and urgency of the situation, David could not help but feel a bit of pride at the gesture of mutual respect between the two. There was often a bit of underlying tension between Na’Feel and Firell, which David interpreted as a result of two prideful people who had just enough cultural misunderstanding to sometimes set them a bit on edge around each other. And in light of their quarrel at dinner that evening, this was good progress.

Firell began running her scanner around the door while Na’Feel turned to Kit. “This is where you come in.”

Kit’s eyes widened and he pointed his index finger toward his own chest. “Me?”

David saw Na’Feel stifle a huff of amusement. “Yes, you. Communications are a part of your title, are they not?”

“Um, yes!” Kit blinked and then nodded firmly. “Yes,” he said more definitively. “How can I help?”

“I need a way to convert Firell’s findings into words. We need to know what Dulann is thinking.”

“But…” Kit shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s possible. I don’t think it’s ever been done before. By anyone.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” said Na’Feel matter-of-factly. Kit looked overwhelmed and a little scared. David knew that the youngest member of his crew was having a lot of pressure put on him right now, but unfortunately now was not the time to worry about sparing feelings.

“Kit.” Delenn spoke up. Her voice was quieter than normal, and David could tell that occasionally she had to put forth a conscious effort hold back tears. “What if you thought the brain waves like a language? Lennier…” She paused, the mere speaking of her stricken friend’s name clearly shaking her deeply. But then she strengthened her resolve, the act likely driven by the knowledge that she needed to stay strong and focused in order to have the best chance of helping Lennier. “Lennier told me that linguistics is more about finding patterns than learning languages. Perhaps brainwaves work the same way.”

“Of course,” murmured Kit. “Lennier and I had a conversation about that over dinner tonight. It’s not about knowing the language – it’s about puzzles and problem solving.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” affirmed Na’Feel. “As for the rest of us, we help Firell and Kit with whatever they may need.”

And so the rest of them waited. Firell obtained the brainwave data and isolated it as Dulann’s. Then she went to set up the Medbay to receive two hypothermic patients in respiratory distress. Before she left, David saw Delenn pull her aside and speak to her for a minute. Firell looked a bit curious, but nodded and headed for MedBay while Delenn hurried in the general direction of the guest quarters. She came back a few minutes later and sat down on the floor next to Marcus, slumped against the wall.

Meanwhile, Kit set to work on deciphering the code. He retreated to a console in the next room to be away from the nervous group outside the door. David couldn’t say he blamed him.

David paced. Usually he talked to Dulann when he was anxious, but obviously that wasn’t possible right now. The next best thing was to go for a walk to clear his head. But he didn’t want to be too far away in case his help was needed or headway was made. So his solution was to pace back and forth near the door. Marcus sheathed and unsheathed his _Denn’bok_ repeatedly. It was annoying, but no one said anything. After awhile though, he seemed to realize on his own, and he stopped. Next to him, Delenn sat with her hands triangled, deep in prayer.

David’s pacing occasionally brought him close to the door of the room where Kit was working. Kit talked to himself almost continuously, as he did often when deep in thought. David was able to catch the occasional snippet: “Okay, that’s the fingerprint.” “Here’s a spike of equal height, but different width.” “No, that can’t be right.” Based on what David was hearing, the jury was out.

But then, with less than twenty minutes left on the clock, Kit gave a whoop of excitement that sent all of them barreling toward where he sat.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “I’ve found the pattern! I don’t have Dulann’s exact thoughts, but I do have a _prevailing_ thought. It’s just one word – ‘Mercy’. Over and over again.”

“Kit, you’re a wonder.” David clapped the young man on the shoulder. A smile stretched across Kit’s entire face.

The group hurried back to the server room, with David at the front. He was still walking as he spoke, loudly and clearly.

“Computer, terminate all anti-breach protocols. Password – ‘Mercy’.”

_“Terminating anti-breach protocols.”_ The robotic voice of the computer was a sharp contrast to the relief that flooded David so quickly and so thoroughly that it was a struggle to keep his feet.

“Thank Valen,” sobbed Delenn. Marcus draped an arm around her shoulder.

The sound of the lock clicking open on the heavy metal door echoed off the walls. The door itself pulled upward about a foot, allowing fresh air into the server room, and David could hear the sound of the ventilation systems working overtime to clear the noxious gas away.

“We need to get the door open all the way!” Delenn shrugged free of Marcus’s grasp and ran forward. She made to bend down and lift from the bottom of the door, but Tirk stepped forward and blocked her way, holding up an inhibitory hand.

“I carry – and lift – very heavy objects.”

A touch startled, Delenn blinked once, but then she stepped backward to allow Tirk to do his job. The muscular Drazi squatted down and grasped the bottom of the door with both hands. Then he stood up slowly, his biceps bulging as he pulled the door up with him. With a roar of effort, he finally released his burden over his head, where it stayed put.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind. They all ran into the server room to find Dulann and Lennier lying on the floor, both unable to be roused, but both alive. Their life signs were faint, Firell said, but they were not beyond help. Quickly, Tirk scooped up Dulann, and Na’Feel followed suite with Lennier, and they rushed to MedBay. Firell had already set up two beds and turned on the forced air systems on high heat, which was gravely needed – Dulann’s body temperature was eighty-five degrees Farenheit, and Lennier’s, a terrifying eighty-one. Their lips and fingertips were lined with purple, but surprisingly Firell said that this was less likely due to the severe hypothermia and more likely due to hypoxia, or lack of oxygen. Both of the unconscious Minbari had markedly increased respiratory effort – it seemed to be costing them much just to breathe. And as David sat at Dulann’s side, he could hear the way the air wheezed in his friend’s chest. Firell clipped external oxygen cannulae to her patients’ noses. She said that putting them on one hundred percent oxygen should help to replace what they had lost by breathing the gas and hopefully resolve their respiratory distress soon. And she monitored their body temperatures continuously.

Once everything had been put into place, with David’s and Delenn’s help, David found that there was little to do but wait. When Dulann had been injured and so badly sick before, they had been in the middle of another crisis, one which threatened the lives of the entire crew and a large group of diplomats on board the ship. David had needed to focus on that, despite the fact that his heart had cried out to stay with his friend and let him know he was there and try to reassure him during what very well might have been his final hours. Call him sentimental, but David wanted his friend to know he was there. After all the loyalty Dulann had shown him, after admitting he was willing to die for him, it was the least David could do. And he _wanted_ to. And he knew Dulann too well to have imagined the look of reassurance on his face all those months ago when he had opened his eyes and seen David standing over him.

David looked over at the other side of the Medbay and saw Delenn sitting at Lennier’s bedside. She held her friend’s limp hand in her own, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. Her other hand rested along the side of his cheek. She watched him with such worry and love in her eyes – it was pretty touching. David noticed that Lennier was hooked up to an IV line, while Dulann wasn’t. He was vaguely curious about it, but he figured that if Dulann needed something IV then Firell would have given it to him. He was too exhausted to think about it further.

But weary though he was, sleep would not come for a long time. Not until Dulann woke up. So David sat and waited, giving his friend the time he needed and watching over him.


	8. And I Will Sleep In Peace Until You Come To Me

The first thing Dulann became aware of was David’s voice. He could not make out the words yet, but he would know that voice anywhere. He grasped onto it and held on with every last ounce of strength he had until he was aware enough to hear what his friend was saying.

“Hey you. I knew you’d come around sooner or later.”

Dulann wanted to say something witty, as defined so many of their conversations, but he was so relieved and so exhausted that all he could manage was to say his friend’s name, relief flooding over him.

“David.”

“Well, the lack of oxygen and hypothermia doesn’t seem to have damaged your memory, so that’s good at least.”

“I…I’m alive.” Yes, he thought he was. He could feel it if he wasn’t. Couldn’t he?

“Oh yeah. You’re definitely alive. You tried pretty hard not to be, but we decided to hold you prisoner here with us for a little while longer.”

Weakly, Dulann grabbed at his friend’s arm and met his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He did not have the strength to elaborate, and he hoped David understood. But he needn’t have worried – the look in David’s eyes showed that he understood perfectly.

Exhaustion overwhelming him, Dulann shut his eyes for a moment, only to have them shoot open again as he began to recall the events that had resulted in him winding up in Medbay.

“Lennier!” He tried to sit up, but found that his whole body shook with the attempt. David rested a gentle but firm hand on his chest and pushed him carefully back down onto the bed.

“It’s okay,” he reassured him immediately. “Lennier’s alive.”

“Will…will he be all right?” Dulann gasped, feeling short of breath. He had tubes clamped to his nose, he realized. They were annoying, but they were likely giving him oxygen necessary for survival.

David glanced across the room, and when Dulann turned his head where he lay he could see Lennier in another bed, pale and hooked up to oxygen and buried under a mound of blankets, Delenn sitting at his side. She seemed so focused on her friend that she was unaware that anything new was happening on the other side of the room.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” David said, and Dulann whimpered with worry.

“But,” David continued, “he is much improved since we pulled you two out of that room almost ten hours ago, and he’s still trending in the right direction. Firell says that even with his chronic immunodeficiencies, it’s likely he’ll be fine. He just needs some time to rest and warm up and breathe some good oxygen.”

Dulann exhaled shakily, allowing himself to relax, trembling as the tension went out of his muscles. It felt easier to breathe now. “Good. That’s good. He was very unwell.”

“So were you,” David pointed out. He looked genuinely shaken, which wasn’t something Dulann saw very much at all in his brave _Shok-na_. He felt bad for having been the cause of it, but at the same time he was touched.

But David wasn’t finished. “Look, Dulann, before we go any further, I have an apology to make.”

Dulann furrowed his brow. “An apology?”

“For the longest time, I didn’t really believe you could talk to the dead. I didn’t think you were lying or anything, maybe just…misinterpreting things you were telepathically sensing? I don’t know. And I don’t know why I didn’t believe you at first. I mean, you’ve been my best friend for over three years, and I trust you with everything else, including my life. I guess I just wasn’t comfortable accepting it as the truth because the idea of you communicating with dead people scared me. I’ve heard that kind of stuff can be really dangerous, and I didn’t want you to get hurt. But I should have seen the truth, been there for you when your…experiences upset you. But I wasn’t. And I’m sorry.”

Dulann had to admit that he admired David for being able to maintain eye contact throughout his entire speech. Religious Caste Minbari were taught to avoid eye contact out of respect. If their positions had been reversed and Dulann had been apologizing to David, Dulann would have found it very hard to break the old habit in his state of penance, despite considering himself David’s peer. But he knew that for humans, eye contact was a sign of sincerity. And David obviously meant what he was saying. But truthfully, he needn’t have said anything at all.

Dulann smiled softly, and David relaxed visibly at the sight of it.

“I know.”

“You do?”

Dulann chuckled hoarsely. “Of course. Do you think me so imperceptive as to be unable to detect your concern over my mental and physical wellbeing when it comes to my telepathic abilities?”

“Dulann, I do that because I care about you, not because I feel guilty.” He looked genuinely offended, a rarity for him.

“Precisely,” said Dulann gently. “I never suspected you to have any other motive. It is enough to know that you are my friend. Everything else makes sense in light of that.”

David sat back in his chair, looking relieved. “Thanks, Dulann.”

Dulann smiled mischievously. “I got you to admit you cared about me.”

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. And would you stop doing this whole near-death experience thing? It’s making me sappy. A _Shok-na_ can’t be sappy.”

“Oh no, of course not. A _Shok-na_ must be tough all the way through, like overcooked _raalon_.”

That sent David into fits of laughter, more than the analogy deserved. Dulann supposed that his friend was releasing hours and hours of worry over his life. He chuckled a bit along with David, but mostly he just let him laugh and laugh.

David’s relieved merriment was at long last interrupted by Delenn’s coming over from the other side of the room. Clearly remembering that she was still experiencing the same worry he had been but minutes ago, David immediately ceased his laughter, triangled his hands, and bowed.

“ _Entil’zha_ , my apologies for being inconsiderate. I got carried away – I guess I’m just so relieved that Dulann is awake.”

“So am I.” The tired but genuine smile she directed at Dulann made him suddenly feel almost nauseatingly ashamed. He dropped his eyes and folded his hands.

“ _Entil’zha_ , I must apologize, from the bottom of my heart,” he said, his voice hoarse from coughing. “I should not have told Lennier about my quest to help the spirits of this ship rest. They told me that it was a task for me and me alone – I ought to have known that bringing him into it would put him in danger. I never meant for it to happen, of course – he is my friend. But all the same, it is my fault that he nearly died and is ill, and that you are worried. I am so terribly sorry.”

“Dulann.” There was forgiveness even in the way she said his name, and Dulann could not help but look up at her. And suddenly he understood why Lennier loved her so much. There was such a depth of kindness and caring and understanding in her eyes that as terrible as Dulann felt, he was instantly comforted. “Please do not let guilt burden you in this matter. If you indeed know Lennier, as I know you do, you will realize that even if you had not told him about the _Liandra_ ’s former crew’s search for rest – the tale of which David has provided me the details – he would have followed you into that server room anyway. He knows you, and his perceptiveness would have led him to the knowledge that something was troubling you. And he is too good a friend not to try to help, even if not directly invited.” She smiled to herself, likely reflecting on her own such experiences with Lennier.

Dulann looked over once more at his yet-unconscious friend and felt worry squirm within him, despite the fact that David had reassured him about Lennier’s condition only a few minutes prior.

“He…he’ll be all right, won’t he? He told me about his illnesses, and how prone he is to poor health. And the whole time we were trapped in that room, I just kept thinking how much worse off he seemed than me. I tried to keep him warm, but there was nothing I could do to help him breathe.” Dulann shuddered at the memory.

“Firell says he should be all right,” Delenn said gently. “Of course I worry about him – we did almost lose him last night, and his health is quite fragile. But I trust Firell’s judgment – Lennier is receiving the medication he needs for his immune system, and now all he should need is time and rest and warmth.”

David chimed in then. “As for why his temperature was lower when we got you out, Firell said that it was all likely just because he’s thinner, and therefore he lost heat faster than you. And his reduced lung capacity from his lobectomy surgery caused him to have more trouble with the lack of oxygen. But on the other side of things, the fact that _your_ lung function is better meant that you breathed more of the ketamol, probably making your hallucinations worse.”

Dulann groaned softly. “I figured it was just my telepathy.”

“Dulann…” asked Delenn hesitantly, “forgive me if this is too personal a question. But…did you find the information you were looking for?”

Dulann remembered the peace on Arlenn’s face as he had faded out for the last time. _Mercy._

“Yes,” he whispered. “They’re free now.”

David looked relieved, and Delenn’s eyes shone with unshed tears – Lennier’s suffering had at least produced something good for someone else, and they both knew that he would be happy with that.

A slight rustling noise from the other side of the room made Dulann look over. At the same time, Delenn, hyper-vigilant when it came to Lennier, leapt to her feet and ran to her best friend’s bedside just in time to take his hand as he opened his eyes.

“Delenn,” Dulann barely heard Lennier whisper. He exhaled a shaky, relieved sigh and brought her hand to his chest. “If I hold you here maybe you won’t have to go.”

“Lennier, I am not going anywhere.” Delenn’s tone was gentle but firm. “You and Dulann are both safe now, and I will stay here with you so you will feel safe.”

Lennier looked around him, his eyes widening with realization and barely-tempered hope.

“I…I am not in that room anymore.”

“No, you are not. You are in the Medbay on the _Liandra_. We got you and Dulann out of the server room ten hours ago. You were unconscious and in respiratory distress and much too cold, but Firell got the both of you stable. You have been on a constant infusion of your antibodies since the rescue, and Firell tested your blood antibody levels an hour ago and they were more than adequate. You are going to be just fine, _Ker’maier Ard’ka_.”

Dulann smiled to himself. “ _Ker’maier Ard’ka_ ” meant “guiding light’’ in Adronato. It was clear that the depth of the relationship between Lennier and Delenn ran both ways. 

Lennier trembled and tears welled in his eyes. “Oh, Delenn, I…I saw you in that room with me and all I wanted was your comfort and you kept trying to get to me but you couldn’t and…I was so frightened, Delenn.”

“I know, Lennier, but you were only hallucinating as the result of exposure to toxic gas. And I was terribly frightened, too – frightened that I would lose you. But we do not have to worry about that anymore – you are safe now, and you are here with me.”

Lennier sniffled and nodded, and Delenn took his other hand so she was holding both of them and then leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Lennier sighed shakily and seemed to regain his composure a bit.

“Can…can I see Dulann?”

“I am right here, Lennier,” Dulann called gently, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded. “I am all right.”

“So am I. Thank you for looking after me, my friend.” Lennier’s smile was weak but warm. “Did…did we do it? What we set out to do?”

Dulann nodded, feeling the oxygen cannula tug annoyingly at his nose as he did so. “Yes. Silas McNabb was forced by the Shadows and a man called Morden to do their bidding. It wasn’t his fault.”

Lennier and Delenn exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“Morden,” said Delenn, as though the name tasted unpleasant on her tongue. “We knew him, and I am not surprised to hear his name come up in this circumstance. He has swayed many a moral in the Shadows’ direction. He is dead now – another whose life he threw into disarray took revenge upon him. May that act serve also to avenge _Anla’shok_ McNabb’s ruination, although I do not believe anything can make up for what he and his crew suffered.” She looked disturbed and saddened, and Lennier pressed her hands comfortingly.

“Arlenn and the others – do they know?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dulann said, and Lennier shut his eyes and sighed with relief. “They know that it is not McNabb’s fault, and that there was nothing anyone could have done. They can finally rest.”

“And so can you,” David admonished. “That’s enough chat for now. You both have quite a bit of recovering to do. I’ll be wanting my _Shok-nali_ back at some point, hopefully in the fairly near future. And I’m sure Delenn feels the same way about her aide.”

Dulann and Lennier exchanged smiles of relief and friendship and gratefulness. And then rest they did, each comforted by the presence of their mutual best friends.

 

Firell allowed Dulann and Lennier to come off of the oxygen and heating pads that evening, though she instructed them to both stay wrapped in their blankets. Neither of them had a problem with that – despite the fact that their body temperatures remained normal, the mere feeling of being so pleasantly warm was too nice just to give up.

They did have to stay in Medbay though, for monitoring, and because Lennier needed to remain on his intravenous infusion. Delenn stayed the entire day, and David was in and out, obviously needing to attend to his captain duties in addition to looking after his friend. Dulann, of course, understood. Both Dulann and Lennier slept most of the day, waking only to eat some soup that Tafeek brought for dinner. He considerately brought some for Delenn as well.

“This is very good,” Delenn said. “Tafeek is quite a good cook.”

“He is, indeed,” agreed Lennier. “However, I bet you could do better.”

Dulann, who was quite bored with having to be confined to Medbay and therefore unable to resist listening in on their conversation, supposed that Lennier had only meant it as a generalized compliment to Delenn. But Delenn sighed softly and bit her bottom lip.

“What is it?” Lennier furrowed his brow.

“Lennier, that is sweet, but I am afraid there is something I have never admitted to you. The omission was partially to spare you self-induced extra work, but admittedly it was also a bit out of shame.”

“Delenn, of what do you speak?” Lennier was obviously confused, and he was beginning to look concerned. Delenn clearly did not wish to upset him, so she made her admission.

“Lennier, I do not know how to cook.”

Lennier blinked. “You do not…oh.” After a moment – and only a moment – of processing, he took her hand and smiled. “Oh Delenn, you needn’t have been ashamed to admit such a thing.”

“But all Minbari seem to know how to cook! All except me.”

“Did you think I would think less of you? With respect, Delenn, you ought to know by now that that is impossible.”

“No, I was just embarrassed. And I did not want you to take it upon yourself to cook for me, or at least in more of a capacity than you already do.”

Lennier thought for a moment. “Actually, this has created a wonderful opportunity.”

Delenn sounded dubious. “It has?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Lennier. “We are always saying that we need to spend more time together outside of work. Well, this will give us that chance! I will teach you to cook! That is, if you would like to learn, of course.” He looked hesitant for a moment, as though he feared he might have been too overzealous.

But then Delenn smiled warmly, and Lennier visibly relaxed.

“Yes, Lennier. I would love that. Thank you.”

Lennier repressed a little bounce of excitement, seeming to remember at the last second that there was a mostly full bowl of soup on a tray on his lap. He instead settled for a verbal expression of his excitement.

“I am so glad! This will be such fun, Delenn.”

“I am already looking forward to it.” Delenn smiled, and so did Dulann, to himself.

Delenn retired to her guest quarters that night to sleep, at Lennier’s urging, and once she was gone both patients slept most of the night. However, not long before morning, Dulann awoke to the sound of his friend tossing and turning in his bed.

“Lennier?”

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry if I woke you. I’ve rested quite a bit now, and I think my internal clock has gotten knocked off the proper time.”

“Mine, too,” said Dulann “Lights.” The Medbay lights turned on, allowing him to see Lennier, who sat up in bed and pulled his blankets up over his chest. Watching him, Dulann could not shake the feeling that his friend seemed just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Lennier, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Lennier sighed. “It is silly, since Delenn was here only a few hours ago and I have been sleeping since then, but I am feeling just the tiniest bit lonely.”

“Well, I am not Delenn, but I can maybe help with that,” said Dulann. Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, taking his personal data pad from the bedside table, and standing a bit shakily, Dulann crossed to the other side of the room to sit on the end of Lennier’s bed.

“Since you are tethered to your intravenous line and I am not, I figured it would be easier for me to come to you,” Dulann explained.

Lennier smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. To tell you the entire truth, I was feeling a bit lonely myself. Maybe it was the whole near-death experience thing.”

“Likely,” said Lennier. “I’ve had a few to use as a reference, I am afraid.” He sighed and leaned back on his pillows. “Another thing I know from experience is that hospital stays are terribly, tortuously boring.”

“They are,” agreed Dulann. “However, luckily, I came prepared for that.” He brought up a screen on his datapad, set it on the bed between himself and Lennier, and enlarged and three-dimensionalized the display.

“ _Vaa’sh Linn_ *!” exclaimed Lennier with a bright smile. “It was always one of my favorite games when we were growing up in temple. Such strategy and concentration.”

“Why am I not surprised?” laughed Dulann. “David told me the humans have a similar game called ‘chess’.”

“Chess,” repeated Lennier thoughtfully, no doubt committing the word to memory.

“Anyhow, play with me?”

“Absolutely!” Lennier perked up considerably as they began to play, and by the time Firell, Delenn, Marcus, and David arrived after breakfast, they were deep in concentration. They were so absorbed in their game that neither looked up until Firell, sounding mildly annoyed, interrupted them.

“I distinctly remember instructing the two of you to rest in my absence.” Her arms were folded over her chest.

Dulann smiled sweetly. “We did that already.”

David almost choked on his laughter. Firell shook her head in exasperation.

“I am sorry, Firell. It is my fault,” said Lennier. “I was lonely so Dulann came over to keep me company. He was just being a good friend.”

Delenn went to stand next to Lennier’s bed and took his hand. He looked up at her with loving affection. Firell sighed resignedly.

“I hope the both of you have at least kept your blankets on to stay warm?”

Dulann and Lennier nodded earnestly.

“Then I suppose there is no harm done. The health of the soul can be just as important as that of the body in a recovery process. Just make sure you keep warm and don’t move around too much. You need rest so your respiratory tracts can recover and you can get your strength back.”

“We’ll rest well, Firell. We promise,” reassured Dulann.

“Just please don’t tell Doctor Franklin I’ve been a bad patient,” said Lennier with a sheepish smile. Delenn laughed.

“Don’t worry, Lennier, he already knows,” chuckled Marcus, dodging a kick aimed off the side of the bed from beneath a blanket.

“Anyway, we came to let you know that we’ll reach Babylon 5 this afternoon,” David said. “Firell’s talked to Doctor Franklin already, and you’ll both go directly to Medlab once we dock. He has scanners there beyond what we have here, so he’ll take a look at both of you. Then, if he and Firell decide it’s okay, you can go to your quarters to finish recovering. We’ll stay a few days to give you some time, Dulann. Anyway, I think after this we all need a few days of rest.”

“We get to see Babylon 5?” Kit asked as he and the rest of the crew filed into Medbay. “Awesome! I’ve always wanted to see it!”

“I’d be happy to show you around,” said Marcus.

“As would I,” said Delenn warmly. “All of you.”

“We would be honored, _Entil’zha_ ,” said Sarah, bowing.

“It is the least I can do to thank all of you. You brought Lennier back to me.”

“Yes,” echoed Lennier. “Thank all of you for your roles in saving our lives. Dulann and I are very grateful.”

Dulann nodded at his crewmates, indicating his agreement.

“That’s nice of you,” said Malcolm, “but the people you most need to be thanking are Na’Feel for coming up with the plan, Firell for her medical expertise, Tirk for lifting the door, and Kit for cracking the code.”

Lennier smiled at the young communications officer. “See, Kit?” You are most definitely a hero.”

Kit’s smile was the widest Dulann had ever seen it, and that said a lot.

“Good job, Kit,” added David. “Firell, your calm thinking and expert care in emergencies has been as skillful as ever.” The healer afforded him a small smile. “And good lifting, Tirk.” The Drazi nodded once. “And Na’Feel…that was some thinking. I don’t think many people would have thought to use our limited information and resources in the way that you did. Well done.”

Na’Feel straightened proudly. “Thank you, Captain.”

Dulann had originally been a bit apprehensive about a Narn and a Drazi joining the crew when it had first been assembled, but now he owed the both of them his life, and Lennier’s as well. They were all a team, and Dulann was proud to be a part of it.

The others went back to their stations after that, though Delenn and David stayed to keep their friends company. Lennier quickly fell asleep once more with Delenn holding his hand, a peaceful smile on his face. David sat next to Dulann, who had moved back to his own bed, staring pensively ahead of him. He did not look uncomfortable or unhappy, just thoughtful.

“That was well done earlier,” Dulann said softly, causing his friend to blink and turn toward him. “Recognizing each crew member’s successes and contributions individually.”

“Well, _sometimes_ I try to be a halfway decent _Shok-na_.”

“You’re a very good _Shok-na_. I always knew you would be.” Dulann let the sincerity of the comment sink in for a second before following it up with the usual wit they used with each other. “Otherwise I would have let you get expelled from the _Anla’shok_ and simply joined someone else’s crew.”

David chuckled. “Thanks, Dulann.” He sighed deeply. “It turns out you weren’t the only one who found what they were looking for this trip.”

Dulann blinked, remembering the naming ceremony at the beginning of their first mission aboard the _Liandra_. “Do you mean…?”

David nodded. “Home is where your family is, right? I think that was why I was always looking for a home – because I never had a family. But I do now.”

Dulann searched his friend’s eyes. David was at peace, and at the sight of it Dulann felt the same way.

“Welcome home, David Martell.”

“Thanks, Dulann.” David rested a hand on Dulann’s shoulder for a minute before rising from his chair. “We should be nearing the Epsilon jumpgate soon – I should be on the bridge. Sleep while you can, or Firell’s probably going to sedate you.”

Dulann laughed. “All right. I’ll see you later.”

After David left, Dulann settled down to try to get a few hours of sleep before needing to go to Babylon 5’s Medlab. And for once, he had no fear of nightmares. He inherently knew that Arlenn and the others would rest now, and he would likely never hear from them again. But all the same, as he drifted off, he saw Arlenn’s face. He figured it was likely a product of his own mind, but he could not be sure.

She was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Vaa’sh Linn_ \- Literally, “plan fight”.


End file.
